


Star Wars: Force of Will (Title Subject to Change)

by BurneHazard



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Dark, Droids, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Game Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Male/Male, Multi, Romance, Sibling Rivalry, Torture, male/female - Freeform, male/female/male
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-21 23:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 51,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10684899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurneHazard/pseuds/BurneHazard
Summary: Sith, a race of red-skinned aliens possessing potent sensitivity to the Force. But the Force does not care about gender, creed, religion, status, age or race. Humans spread through the galaxy like a plague. The number of their Force-sensitives rose. Eventually, the pure-bloods were lost to antiquity as human numbers dominated. Thus, "Sith" became a title used in reference to those empowered by the Dark Side.Change is constant. Now there is a rise in Force-sensitive aliens once more. In the course of his apprenticeship, an angry young Chiss discovers that even amongst the most powerful ruling class in the galaxy, he is on his own. Bound to a master more concerned in researching relics than training him in the ways of the Sith, he must forge his own path. He will learn that the emotions which burn the hottest also fade the fastest, while the truth is something cold and eternal.





	1. Caught a Bug

**Author's Note:**

> This work will contain dialogue from the game. Any of that dialogue will be followed by a (number). Just as with my other series in Diablo 3, I make no claims to ownership. No money is made from this work. And thanks to the freedom in playing Star Wars: The Old Republic and the way they made their storylines, I will not always have the game dialogue in every chapter. But it will play a heavy role regardless. So if you do NOT want to see spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor storyline, do not read.

            The streaks of stars grew wide and almost painfully bright outside the cockpit before light and dark blended and whirled into a mottled tunnel of purple, blue and white luminescence. Hyperspace. It was beautiful to un-enhanced senses of organic beings. And every race saw the rotating, eternally spinning channel slightly different. None ever called it ugly. Some of the weaker found it to be nauseating or even disturbing but never ugly. And for Narthias, it was one of the few places that felt safe, felt like a sanctuary. He could stare down the tunnel and watch the play of light and shadow for hours or even days without weariness.

            Unfortunately, this was not one of those times. He wished it was. This time he could only sit for a moment to stare out of the ship before rising. The world of Balmorra was behind. It had been yanked away by unseen hands in the wake of the ship breaking through the barrier to slip into that alternate space where distance was folded and time shifted. Leaving the pilot's chair, he made himself straighten and move despite the ache of his joints. A soft whir from hydraulics made him pause.

            "Make sure to wake me before we reach our destination."

            Another whir as the droid designated 2V-R8 nodded. Satisfied with the quiet obedience, Narthias headed for his quarters. It had taken him nearly a week of furious slicing and hacking to reprogram the droid and alter its personality. Unlike the majority of his ilk, the Sith Apprentice had no patience or desire for the constant abasement or platitudes that had been programmed into the machine. It had only taken an hour of that insipidly whiny voice and cowering mannerisms to spark his anger enough to decide on either reprogramming or scrapping the thing. And with the former option, he had maintained a useful tool for his arsenal.

            It had been a good choice however. During his work, he had discovered and removed several locked programs that would have allowed someone else to track his location and report any and all movements as well as even take over his ship on remote command. While there was little doubt who that someone was, it had been satisfying to cut those programs out and reset them so if the remote was activated, TwoVee would immediately inform him and trace them back to their origin. Narthias was nothing if not cautious about shady dealings.

            Closing and locking the door to his quarters behind him, the apprentice sank down onto his bed with a grunt. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows against his thighs and let his head fall into his hands. Sith-spawn but he ached. It was not just his joints, it was his entire body. The Force had not once ebbed from his grasp as his anger toward the enfeebling sensations burned steadily. And now that he had a moment without distractions, he was able to focus on the discomfort. It almost surprised him how rampant the problem was.

            Blast Zash and her impatience! If she had not been so adamant that he recover the bloody artifact before--who knew what that woman's delusions led her to believe--happened, he would not be in the fix he was enduring. He could almost feel his cells struggling to purge the colicoid mutation from themselves. Of course he remembered both the mutinous Iannos Tyrek and the later-promoted Major Ilun warning him of the insanity of taking it. But there had been little other choice. Time was paramount to his master. And frankly, he wanted off that world as early as possible to get her off his back.

            Now he was paying for his lack of patience. Anger surged as his stomach chose that moment to roil about. Swallowing hard, he twisted to fall backward onto the bed and let his spine pop back into place. Several nearly painful cracks later and he could breathe slightly easier as the relief briefly washed his discomfort away. Laying there, he almost dozed off. But another roil of his stomach and painful throb from his shoulders and knees roused him. Rising, Narthias stripped his armor off and cast it aside before stepping into the closet-sized cleanser. It would take a few days to reach his next destination and the last irritation he needed was for his skin to begin crawling.

            Turning up the light inside the cleanser, he took a moment to check himself over. Of course his body was very beautifully sculpted with hard muscle, lithe and powerful. It had been even before events brought him to be chained to Darth Zash as her apprentice. But he had to admit that there was new tone to his arms and legs from the work he had been performing in her name. The multitude of bruises he had acquired were already dark purple blotches against the rich royal blue of his skin. Reaching up, he freed the two finger-width braids that kept the fall of sky blue hair out of his face so the strands could be cleansed as well.

            He had no shame in taking pride in his appearance. And secretly he believed it might just have been one of the smaller factors that had led the Darth to select him over his red-skinned pureblood rival. Not that he was proud on that account. Pulling his mind away from how her hands had often come into contact and lingered too long at certain points, he focused on making certain the few deep cuts on his waist were clean and healing. His armor was not able to protect every inch and it had been his own fault for deciding to try and jump the speeder over the chasm of a blasted bridge.

            Refreshed and clean, he returned to his bed and collapsed onto it. The nausea was growing stronger and the relief lying down had brought was foremost on his mind. He would clean his armor later. For the moment he had to focus. The anger that had burned brightly in his heart since he was a child was an old friend as he pulled it close and relaxed. Crimson eyes closed as he curled around one of the two pillows and let himself sink into the Force to begin working on helping his body repel the serum that had allowed him to survive in the toxic pit. Zash had never taught him this. But despite her delusions, Narthias loved to read as well.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            A chiming interrupted his thoughts. No, not thoughts. It was a dream. Had he fallen asleep? The sound came again as he struggled back to awareness. Moving was something bordering on mistake as pain surged. Gasping deeply, he froze as his mind gained coherency quickly. The ship thrummed around him like a living creature. He felt its steady vibrations and the pulse and flow of energy through the engines and systems. Where the Force connected to life, there were many forms of it. Organic life was simply the most prominent thus the most easily accessed.

            The chime came a third time and he made himself move. It was easier. The pain faded to a dull ache lingering in joints and deep in his muscles. Not quite to his bones yet. A feeling told him it would settle there as well. Eventually. Narthias groaned as he managed to kick off damp covers. He had been sweating again. Untangling the sheets, he dropped his legs over the edge of the bed and just sat there to collect himself. The chime came again and his anger flared. He reigned it in and used it to make blood flow swifter and help ease his body back to awareness.

            "I'm up," he snapped irritably at the door.

            "The ship is ready to exit hyperspace, master," TwoVee's neutral if muffled tone stated. "I have prepared your meal and will return to duty."

            Grunting, Narthias made himself rise but did not bother responding. The droid was far more useful this way and he preferred it. Destroying one's tools in a fit of rage was never a good idea. And the droid had proven very useful about the ship. Especially when a couple of insurgents on Balmorra had managed to nearly steal the fighter. Since his reprogramming, TwoVee had responded with appropriately lethal measures. Not that the droid could ever hope to become of combat stock. But when it came to a question of strength, metal and hydraulics always trumped flesh and bone.

            Unfortunately, despite his attentions, the serum was still waging war in his body. Getting dressed was a clumsy and embarrassing affair that left him in a foul mood. When he left his quarters, a delicate aroma made his stomach growl at him with its own pressing temper. Storming to the table, he sat and made himself eat. A couple bites and his stomach went from growling at him to rolling uncomfortably once more. He made himself eat regardless. Despite the aroma, the food tasted horrible. Another side-effect of the serum.

            Randomly contemplating whether seasoning it with poison would make it taste better--since toxic waste was what the colicoids ate and he had not had the displeasure of trying any in the pit--he began to steel himself for what he knew was to come. The moment the ship's vibration changed and the pulse of energy altered, he knew that TwoVee was bringing them out of hyperspace. Finishing the unsatisfying meal, he left the dishes on the table for the droid to handle and rose to head for the holoterminal in the middle of the small rec-room.

            Sure enough, just as he approached it, the chime of an incoming transmission came. Zash was very predictable. And he was certain there was a tracer or something aboard the ship he had yet to find for her to be so precisely punctual. Barely minutes out of hyperspace and her call came. Every time. If not for the fact he had been over every micrometer of TwoVee's inner and outer workings, he would have suspected the droid betrayed him. He pushed all those thoughts aside and reached out to open the channel. The blue-washed light of his master's holo came up with a crackle and eye-jerking flicker.

            "Ah, Apprentice! I see you've made it to Tatooine. Not the most luxurious destination, but trust me--the artifact is close." (1)

            Why the woman always used that phrase, "trust me" only made him trust her less. Especially after obtaining certain information. He kept that thought carefully shielded as his neutral features regarded her. Not that she seemed aware of anything amiss as she continued on in the same pleasant and upbeat tone.

            "You'll need to find the pirate Andronikos Revel. He should be quite familiar with this piece." (2)

            Narthias frowned at that. A pirate? His arms rose to fold across his chest as he studied the grainy projection.

            "Who is this Andronikos Revel and what's his interest in Sith artifacts?" (3)

            "He was once a pirate, and the artifact was once a prize. He stole it out of some Sith ruins, but when his crew mutinied, they took it. I sent a cruiser to recover the artifact, but all they found was Andronikos in an escape pod, half-mad. We let him stew for a while in Imperial prison, and then released him. He's been hunting his crew down ever since, and we've been watching." (4)

            The idea was sound, the method a good one. And privately he approved of that. He would have probably done much the same. Not that he was going to let on just how intelligent he was. Part of this entire game was to let Zash believe him the ignorant, naive alien she secretly believed he was.

            "Does this...Andronikos...know you're using him to get to the artifact?" (5) he asked.

            "Does it matter?" Zash countered. "He gets what he wants - revenge - and you and I get what we want. The artifact." (6)

            Again she stressed the 'you and I' after he had first pointed out the issue with her using 'we' to push him into doing her manual work for her. Oh, he did not doubt she was busy. But he was also very certain that their definitions of 'work' differed greatly.

            "He's never lingered longer than it takes to kill, but Tatooine is different. It's been weeks. I believe Andronikos has found the leader of the mutiny, and with him, the artifact. Find Andronikos and you'll find a clear course." (7)

            Narthias tilted his head so his frown was no longer blocked by his deep hood. "Why not wait for him to make his move and capture him again?" (8)

            Zash smiled as if she were speaking to a witless child. "There's no guarantee he will take the artifact if he finds it or that we will know he has made his move. Andronikos must have come through the spaceport at some point. Start with the shipmaster. Good luck, apprentice. And remember, every piece draws you closer to your full potential." (9)

            The holo went dark as the transmission ended. Narthias only belatedly realized he had begun to grind his back teeth. Sometimes dealing with that woman made him want to blast something. Of course, he had more powerful and personal tools than a blaster these days. He had not been born Sith like most others. He was Chiss. And he was fully grown. It was as if the Imperials could not grasp that he had a higher intellect or that he had been employed in several lines of work long before they turned their attention to him. It worked in his favor, of course, but there were times...

            "TwoVee," he snapped as he headed for the cockpit.

            "Master?" the droid inquired.

            "Landing procedures. I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary."

            Part of his anger was due to the growing sensation of aches and nausea. It was going to take longer than just a few days to purge the serum. The last thing he needed was to go into the furnace of a world with two suns and hardly any water to speak of. After considering it, maybe the heat would help burn the serum out of his body. Either way, it was certainly one way to ensure his emotions and passion were never faltering.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            _"Remain vigilant during this rakghoul emergency. Use of lethal force against plague carriers is authorized and encouraged."_ (10)

            The announcement over the port's intercom made Narthias pause. Frowning, he pulled his holocom free to signal the ship. TwoVee's image appeared a moment later.

            "Yes, master?"

            "Scan the holonet. What is the report on the rakghoul plague on Tatooine?"

            It took the droid a moment or two before it looked back to him. "It is one of two major stories currently being reported on. Mos Ila authorities neglected to report the situation to us on our approach and I have found they have no warning satellites broadcasting to approaching ships. Landing is discouraged. Citizenship is threatened. Leaving may not be permitted."

            Growling, Narthias clenched his free hand into a fist. "Report them to Imperial authorities immediately. And tell them I want names to deal with when I finish my business."

            "Of course, master."

            Terminating the call, Narthias stormed forward. His already foul mood turned as black as his robes and the armor beneath. Of course it also meant he had a very open path through the people lingering in the space port as they threw themselves as far away from the seething Sith as they physically could. Mos Ila would be needing to replace several people when he was through. If they were lucky enough he did not decide to purge their entire work structure period.

            So vicious was his presence that the green male twi'lek in the uniform of the shipmaster was cowering behind one of the curving desks before the Sith had even reached the top of the service ramp. When it was clear he was the target of the menacing figure however, the twi'lek tried to pull himself together. It only made his veneer of calm that more pathetic.

            "Have you heard of a pirate named Andronikos Revel?" (11) Narthias growled without any attempt at concealing or restraining his temper.

            "Pirate? Naw, I don't consort with those types. Bad for business. Tatooine's not much of a place, but it's best to keep your nose clean anyway." (12) the twi'lek--Ka'van Aip--said with forced and fake nonchalance.

            "I don't like it when people lie to me," (13) Narthias said in a very low, dark tone as his crimson eyes flickered with a touch of purple light.

            Ka'van had only a second to realize what was about to happen before gloved hands rose. When the purple-tinted arcs of lightning shot out to envelop him, the green alien released a scream. His overweight body thrashed and twisted through multiple spasms as he fell to the floor. The screams delighted and soothed Narthias's temper as a smile touched his face. Drawing in the agony and terror, he let it become a balm to store some of that rage and hatred away for later. And at just the right moment, before the overload could damage the brain or heart, he stopped. The lightning vanished as his hands lowered back to his sides.

            Gasping, twitching in the aftermath of his nervous system being ripped in multiple directions as it was fried, the shipmaster whimpered where he was still sprawled on the ground.

            "All right, all right!" he gasped. "So maybe Andronikos Revel did come through here. But you don't want anything to do with that guy, believe me!" (14)

            "You'd better make this good," (15) the Sith said in a deceptively calm tone.

            The heavy twi'lek managed to push himself up, dragging himself further away and toward one of the desks to brace his twitching form against.

            "I hear he shows up every now and again at the cantina in Mos Ila. But I'm warning you--the guy's crazy. He don't talk to nobody, don't drink anything stronger than water. The only reason Regg--the cantina owner--don't kick Andronikos out is because he's scared to death of him." Ka'van averted his eyes as he fell to mumble, "But you didn't hear it from me." (16)

            Snorting, Narthias turned to walk away. Despite the pain and fear still rolling off the shipmaster, the twi'lek was stupid enough to cling to the delusion that a pirate was of more concern than a Sith in a black mood. It was almost amusing. Mostly pathetic. But he could not be bothered with that. There was a pirate to find and perhaps more chaos to cause. If everyone on Tatooine was as thick-brained as the shipmaster, there would be plenty of mayhem to unleash. He was actually looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have seen a familiar name--if you've read my other works. I will say this now: Yes, I am re-using names. After coming up with the names years ago for RP purposes, and developing such wonderful, deep personalities to go with those names, I see no reason why I shouldn't use them again given how horrible I am randomly making them up these days. More of my own character names will pop up. Some of them might be recognized from other genre works, some may be new. Either way, the personalities are of my claim.


	2. Bounty Hunters and Pirates

            Mos Ila was almost unnaturally empty. The hot breeze bore a strange sensation of emptiness upon it. If he had not known about the current plague situation, he might have mistaken the deserted streets and wind-scrubbed buildings for being a ruin. One of the most prominent features to ruin that impression however were the fresh corpses charred to a crisp around every few corners or the steady thunk and clunk of the Imperial Security Droids going about their patrol routes. Even Imperials were scarce.

            Hardly unsettled, Narthias continued on his way toward the cantina. While there were likely several to be found in Mos Ila, there was only one with easy access to both the space port and the town. Even before he reached the door where several beings stood a little warily in the shade of the awning over the door, he could hear the sounds of life and off-tune music. Steeling himself--or rather his ears--he went down the shallow steps to enter the dark gloom behind the open doorway.

            The air grew cooler the deeper into the place he went but it also grew more thick. Stale smoke and unrecycled or unfiltered air was a minor hazard. Other smells permeated the ambiance although he did not waste any effort attempting to discern which were fresh and which lingered from previous years. Unlike most other cantinas he had entered, the bar was not in immediate view from the curving hall after the outer doorway. Instead he had to go further down and turn to find it nestled out of the way.

            Aside from the multiple turns, the place beyond was rather large and spacious despite the sensation of being underground. The poor excuse for a band was on the low stage playing with a cluster of patrons filling the tables or even on the floor making fools of themselves. Most of the other tables were empty. Only a couple of tables against the far wall were occupied by silent patrons nursing drinks. These sported an array of visible weapons. A group of armored figures were gathered near the corner at the far end of the bar.

            Narthias gave this group a slightly closer scan as he turned to head for the nearer end of the counter. There were five of them. The armor they wore was a bit battered and scuffed but well maintained. Clearly they were no strangers to combat. It was expected from Mandalorians however. Once near enough he could identify them by their almost trademark armor. A couple were clearly scouts while the rest were heavier with more scarred accoutrements denoting hunters. He picked up snatches of conversation and a couple chuckles before tuning it out. He did not know their language.

            Placing one hand on the counter, he scanned the array of displayed drinks behind the bar while waiting for what appeared to be a very skinny and malnourished twig of a rodian to come toward him. After studying the being, Narthias sighed. He waited for Regg to come up to him before speaking.

            "I'm looking for a pirate named Andronikos Revel." (1)

            The rodian released a sigh of his own and shook his head. It really was too big for his skinny frame.

            "Look, even if I knew him, I wouldn't tell you where he is. Customers don't like bartenders who blab. Not that I listen anyway." (2)

            It was somehow surprising this "Regg" had lasted as long as he had let alone as the owner of a cantina. But Narthias did catch the slight turn of the rodian's head as if those huge insectoid eyes were glancing toward something else. The Sith did not need to follow the motion to know the bartender was looking toward the Mandalorian party at the other end of the bar. And he suspected that at least one of them was probably a bounty hunter. Not that they appeared to notice since their own conversations were uninterrupted.

            "Look, Sith, this is a peaceful establishment. We don't want any trouble. So buy a drink, enjoy yourself, but don't start nothing." (3)

            Once again, his temper flared. Narrowing his own crimson eyes into a glare, he just fixed it on Regg and took a slow, deep breath. Because the guy looked like a kid, Narthias would give him one more chance.

             "I won't start anything if you tell me what I want to know." (4)

            "You're not going to let this go are you?" Regg asked in a sigh. Resignation filled his voice when he continued. "For the last time, Sith, I don't know the fella. Never heard of him. Now, is there anything else I can do for ya, or can I get some peace?" (5)

            The hints of attitude at the end served to cement the rodian's fate as the last shreds of tolerance that Narthias possessed snapped.

            "Tell me where Andronikos Revel is!" (6) he snarled.

            The noise of the cantina was blocked out by the hissing cracks and pops of Force lightning erupting. It was only drown out by the warbling scream as Regg was thrown to the floor with the strength of the electricity raking through every nerve ending. Narthias locked his glare on the thrashing body as he listened to the jittery beat of the heart, followed the impossibly fast scramble of signals lighting the skinny body up brighter than a storm at night. And because of the frail body, he could not risk torturing him too long.

            When he let his hand fall back to his side, he drummed the fingers of his other hand on the bar's surface. He granted the rodian a moment to recover. The jangling, off-key notes of the band was one of the few indicators that the patrons had noticed the altercation. But they continued to do their best to ignore it. Years of war and bar fights had trained their self-preservation that well at least. The Mandalorian party had gone quiet however and he could feel several points of attention on him.

            "All right!" Regg gasped where he was curled in fetal position on the floor. "All right! You want to know where Andronikos Revel is? I'll tell you!" He uncurled, struggling to climb back to his feet using some of the props behind the bar. "Just...don't ever do that again." The twerp managed to get to his feet although he leaned heavily against the shelves displaying drinks to stay as far from the Sith as he could. "It might get my intestines ripped out in the middle of the night, but I can't stand pain." (7)

            Patience was not a virtue Narthias could have claimed to possess right then as tiny arcs of violet crackled about the hand on the bar's surface. "Don't let it get stuck in your throat. Speak!" (8)

            Regg trembled as he tried to back further away only to be stopped by the counter. "Andronikos keeps a room upstairs! He likes his privacy, and he pays me not to let on he's here. 'Course, it helps that the time he caught somebody telling on him to one of the Exchange gang, he blew both their brains out. Bug him at your own risk! But if he's up in his room, it usually means he don't want to be bothered." (9)

            Just for good measure--and because he was more than irritated that someone yet again clung to the belief an angry Sith was of less concern than a mundane pirate--he sent a single bolt of violet energy at Regg. It delivered a jolt powerful enough to render the cantina owner insensible. He turned away as he heard the skinny body hit the floor. Before he could make his way to the stairs to head back up, something caught his attention.

            One of the Mandalorians was watching him. The rest had returned to their conversation, albeit the talk was a lot lower. But there was no mistaking how the helmet's black visor was locked on him. It was a gesture done with intent. Narthias paused to consider then decided to stop and study the figure. Twin blasters rested holstered at the hips although they were unbound and ready for a fast draw. A simplified jet pack was visible as were several other devices he identified from his own past use.

            The armor was of a different style than the others, although just as battle-scarred. Actually, he was surprised he had not noticed the green-black against the blue-silver of the other figures. If the body shape was any indication, the bold one was a woman. She was just as tall and broad as her male companions--if they were together. There was also about a foot of distance between her and the others. The males were also positioned in a slight crescent that visibly excluded her from their conversation.

            After he had a moment to study her, the woman's helmet tilted forward. He watched her nod. Then it occurred to him that she was being polite by giving him a chance to size her up. While he had not interacted with many bounty hunters, he was not completely ignorant about communication via body language and more subtle signals. Considering, he shifted his weight to lean a little closer to the stairs before he returned her nod once to see if he had picked up on the clues properly.

            He had. She slid off the bar stool and straightened to move around the bar toward him. A respectful distance was maintained when she stopped just out of arm's reach. It was close enough to have a few words however as she kept her hands visible and arms relaxed at her sides.

            "Greetings, Lord," she said in a rough, modulated tone.

            "Bounty hunter," Narthias both greeted and added just enough inflection in his tone to make it an inquiry.

            She nodded once in conformation. "Andronikos Revel," she stated.

            Raising one brow, Narthias blinked. But the gesture was hidden by the black hood. He tilted his head slightly instead.

            "There is a bounty on his head," she stated. "And another hunter tracking him."

            "I see. And why are you are informing me of this?"

            "The Great Hunt is in progress. I need Revel alive to draw my prey out. With respect, I ask that you leave him alone."

            A blunt bounty hunter. And bold. Reaching out, he nudged her mind to pick up on her emotions. What he found surprised him. She had a very solid mental shield in place. In fact, before he could blink in surprise, he had a blaster's muzzle against his chest. The only reason the room did not go silent this time was because the stairway blocked them from the stage area's view.

            "Don't," was all she said.

            Her finger was not actually on the trigger. It was curled above it, braced against the trigger guard. Narthias had to admit he was surprised by her reflexes. He withdrew his mental probe. She lowered her blaster slowly to return it to the holster.

            "Interesting," Narthias said, forcing his temper back. "Not many would survive pulling a blaster on a Sith."

            "Not many Sith leave their random informants alive," she countered.

            "What's your name, bounty hunter?"

            "Kacela."

            Well, it would not bother him to leave the pirate alive for the time. It was probably how he needed the man anyhow. And he had to admit, something about this woman held just enough intrigue to leave her be for now.

            "All right, Kacela. Since we both have interest in this matter, I'll leave him alive--IF you ensure he remains that way until I have no further use for him. Acceptable?"

            For a few moments, the woman was quiet to think. Finally, she nodded once. "I will make sure he remains alive until you are finished with him. Then, he is mine."

            The smile that touched Narthias's lips was hardly a cheerful one. Kacela did not seem to care, if she even noticed. He brought one hand up, palm upward. After a moment, she covered it with her own. The agreement was sealed that simply as there was no transaction to be made. Nodding once more, the bounty hunter turned away to head back to the group at the bar who was openly watching them. Paying no further mind to the Mandalorians, Narthias turned to continue up the stairs to the ground floor and his quarry.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Cantinas were not supposed to be mazes. Whatever amusement or entertainment value his encounter with the bounty hunter had brought was erased by traversing the various rooms and halls of the ground floor. Most rooms were open-door. They were more communal areas or places with multiple beds intended for free use to those either too tired to bother or too drunk to be kicked out. Several of those rooms were occupied by the missing vendors and other people who would normally be outside if not for the plague.

            A few people in one room brought a foreboding feeling to him. If he had more time, he might have investigated. He had no patience. Finally he found the individual rooms with closed doors that indicated privacy. Reaching out with his senses, Narthias slowly scanned the sparks of life he found concealed to either side of the hallway. Only one caught his interest. There was more than one conflicting emotion emanating from the being. Most of them were dark or hot. Here was a familiar sensation as well, the desire for revenge and searing hate.

            Stopping quietly outside the door, he bowed his head to listen. No matter how good the insulation or construction of a room, the door was always as weak a filter as a window when it came to voices. He already knew there were two people in the room. One was his pirate. The other gave him momentary pause. But when nothing distinct came through, he reached out to push on the door. It opened smoothly. The quiet noise interrupted the talk and the two men turned to look at him. The darker of the two had a blaster aimed at the middle of the doorway.

            Looking the alert man over, Narthias found himself rather intrigued. While he had seen too many humans to count in all shapes and sizes, the man staring him down was unique. The skin was a rich shade of bronzed brown that could put kaf to shame. It allowed the darker brown and black lines of the primal tattoo curving about his left eye to stand out like a predator's markings. There was no hair visible upon his head save his eyebrows and the darker shadow of stubble along his jaw. His body was lithe but powerful as if he had done more gymnastics than heavy labor.

            The second figure shifted nervously and immediately drew the crimson-eyed glance. He was less impressive. A red-head with skull shaved so only a strip of hair was left combed back from forehead to the back of the skull. The skin was pale with an uneven dusting of orange freckles. The sideburns he had gone with seemed to drift in the middle of the pale face. From the unease he displayed, he was not going to be of any threat. If the stories he heard were to be believed, the darker man was the pirate he sought. That one had nothing but balls on him.

            "Andronikos Revel? I believe you have the artifact I'm looking for," (10) Narthias said to the man keeping the blaster trained steadily on his chest.

            A low growl rumbled from the pirate as he let his arm drop and turned his head to give the nervous ginger a dark look.

            "Webb, folks aren't supposed to know I'm here," (11) came a surprisingly rich, almost gravelly voice.

            Gulping, the red-head raised his hands in a placating gesture as he shifted from foot to foot. "I'm sorry, Andronikos. It was that damn bartender." (12)

            "Take care of it," the pirate growled. (13)

            Nodding quickly, the red-head turned to scurry out, twisting at the waist to get past Narthias. It only served to make him bump his back against the doorframe and stumble into the hallway. Forgetting the coward, the sith turned his attention back to the pirate. The blaster was already back in its holster as one empty hand rose to motion him into the room.

            "Now Sith, your artifact," Andronikos began as the door was closed. "I don't have it, and I'm glad. Thing drove my crew insane; they mutinied. I floated ten days in a disabled escape pod and spent thirty more in Imperial lockup on account of that hunk of rock." (14)

            Well, there went his mood again. This time Narthias was the one to growl. It emerged as more of a pent-up and very angry snort. "Maybe next time you won't be so quick to steal from Sith." (15)

            "Maybe you Sith oughta to keep those things someplace safe. But maybe we could help each other out. The guy who has your artifact is the guy I'm on Tatooine to kill--Sylas Wilkes. My old first mate. He started the mutiny, then tossed me into space. Now he's an Exchange big shot. He's got your Sith toy." (16)

            Narthias considered the information carefully. He had already had a few encounters with the Exchange. While he remained unimpressed by the group, they could be very annoying. And as his roiling stomach reminded him, the last thing he wanted was to waste time dealing with the pests. Jedi were easier to deal with.

            "Perhaps a partnership is in order," (17) he begrudgingly admitted.

            "Glad you see it that way. It'll take both of us to get to Wilkes. I've been chasing him halfway across the galaxy. Stole my favorite blasters, not to mention my pride." (18)

            Something in the tone the pirate used made Narthias's eyes narrow. He took a closer look at the man who was glaring at the floor in a way that would have made it explode had he been Sith. The gravel in his voice was suddenly a sharp, heated thing as hatred bled through the words. He had some suspicions as to what else might have happened to Andronikos before he was ejected in the pod. Keeping those thoughts to himself, he continued to listen.

            "Lucky thing, I got a contact inside the Exchange. Only I can't exactly just stroll into the Exchange base." (19)

            "The Exchange doesn't scare me," (20) he said, waving one hand idly.

            Andronikos's head snapped up and a glare fixed on the sith. Narthias met the vicious look unflinchingly as the pirate snarled.

            "They don't scare me either," he snapped. Then a snort emerged as he gestured to Narthias with his own hand, wriggling his fingers in mockery of a familiar gesture. "Only I can't shoot lightning from my fingertips." (21)

            His arm fell back to his side as both hands went to rest on his hips over the belt supporting his blaster. "Contact's name is Casey Rix. Old friend who used to be part of my crew. But she, uh, doesn't exactly know I'm here." (22)

            Was that regret in the pirate's tone? No, not really regret, but certainly a touch of unease.

            "She's sure to know where Wilkes is hiding. Tell her you know me and she'll tell you--" (23)

            "No," Narthias said.

            It served to pull that intense glare back to his eyes. Andronikos was surprised and suspicious. Even though the sith did not glance down, he knew those fingers were twitching with the need to drop to the blaster.

            "I don't care if she's a friend of yours," the sith said. "If she doesn't give me what I want..." (24) He trailed off to let the meaning become clear. "Which is why you're going to come with me."

            A smirk spread across his blue lips as he watched the veiled expressions pass over the strong features; confusion, anger, disbelief, suspicion, surprise, distrust. Turning away, he reached out to open the door. "Trust me, no one will even know you're there."

            Stepping out before the pirate could say a word, he closed the door behind him. The sight of the man's mouth open to protest just allowed his smirk to linger. All he had to do was see if a certain bounty hunter would be willing to go along with his plan or if he would have to do it the harder way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, quick reminder that anything with a (#) behind it means the dialogue is taken from the game. From here on, however, it won't appear as much. Promise. Let me know what you think!


	3. Exchange Sickness

            The plan had gone off without a hitch. It was deceptively easy and very fun. Although the bounty hunter had been resistant at first, normal persuasion had worked. But they had almost missed the perfect opportunity when it had suddenly fallen in their laps. Then again, how could anyone have known that three of the drunks in the common room on the other side of the private rooms would turn into rakghouls so quickly? In the resulting panic and confusion, it was easy for Narthias to slip the pirate out of the cantina. The bounty hunter--Kacela--stayed in Andronikos' room to wait for her rival.

            On the way out, they had been spotted. But the Imperial Security coming in to answer the panicked reports only detained them until Narthias happened to see Webb trying to sneak out. Grabbing the ginger kid by his throat, he dragged him outside to throw against the wall. The security lingered long enough to see the arcs of violet dancing around the Sith's free hand before they turned back into the cantina. After all, Sith business was Sith business. None of them wanted to interfere and throw their lives away for mere riffraff.

            When they were gone, the "attack" on the trembling young man halted. Andronikos gave some orders which Webb swore he would take care of. The ginger would continue to go to the pirate's room as if speaking to him. Kacela was only interested in her rival which meant he was safe. And it was doubtful Webb would say anything about her being there instead of the pirate. It bought them precious time. The fact it was fun without actual torture amused Narthias in a way he had not felt for years. Memories of better times before he was arrested rose but he stubbornly pushed them into the back of his mind as a distraction.

            Just as he had promised, no one paid Andronikos a second glance. They would turn and look, see the black robe and lightsaber, then go back to their own business. Not many bothered to look at the form following the Sith. It was almost a pity the plan was working so well. Rust red armor with stained white and gold edging both protected and concealed the pirate. It was a few steps away from looking like scrap but whoever had owned it before Kacela had obtained it had given it halfway decent care. The further they walked without lingering attention, the less tension he felt from the pirate.

            Reaching the speeder post, Narthias scanned the vehicles available for rent and picked one that looked beaten up but still somewhat new. Paying for its use, he waved Andronikos over before climbing on to check the controls. There was hesitation. The speeder came to life with a small kick as the engines coughed. Andronikos reluctantly but quickly moved to slide behind Narthias and sit. He only grabbed the Sith when the speeder lurched forward and shot from the lot onto the sands. But the pirate was not the only one suddenly uncomfortable with the position since such personal contact was not something Narthias had experienced for years.

            The actual trip was pretty short. Most settlements stayed in fair distance to major ports and cities due to the Sand People and other dangers the desert contained. When the speeder approached the small farm that was supposed to be the Exchange base, Narthias let go of his amusement. The moment he did, he felt his joints aching once more, a steady twisting in his gut and a brief surge of utter exhaustion from deep in his body. Anger rose the instant he let himself feel the serum's work and suddenly he sensed them all. Thugs with their simple minds crouched behind dunes, the broken wall, the supposedly empty buildings.

            Bringing the speeder to a halt, he left the engine idling for a moment. Turning his head, the Sith waited for a moment. Andronikos pulled away and slid off the speeder. Despite being able to sense the thugs, feel their attention on him, there was nothing immediately threatening. He finally cut the engine and slid off the vehicle as well. Nothing was said. Apparently the pirate had picked up on the attention as well. Turning in place, Narthias made certain that all their watchers saw him look at their positions.

            Finally, when no one challenged them further, he turned in a ripple of the black robe to head for the only building with an open door. Andronikos fell in behind him but was walking slightly backward at an angle with hands near his blasters but not yet touching. They stepped into the gloom of the round little hut and out of immediate line of fire. Only one person was in the place and they were in front of the desk. When his eyes adjusted to the interior, Narthias found himself looking at a woman in snug charcoal grey leathers with a deep red-brown tint to her skin. The black hair was trimmed short and neat with two short braids in red bands framing her features.

            "Casey Rix?" he asked. She nodded. "Andronikos sent me. He said you know where to find Sylas Wilkes." (1)

            Surprise showed on her face as she straightened from her nonchalant posture. "Andronikos? You mean he's out of prison? He doing alright?" (2)

            Not entirely sure how to respond, Narthias shook his head, rolling his shoulders. It gave the pirate who had taken up position to one side of the doorway time to speak up. Curiously, he remained silent.

            "And...he's after Wilkes. Figures," she said. Relaxing again, she folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the desk. "Andronikos doesn't really forgive or forget. Hey, you're not planning to harm him, are you?" (3)

            That made him frown. Did she mean harming Wilkes or Andronikos? After a moment of consideration, he chose to gamble much in the same way.

            "Tell me where Wilkes is or I will kill him." (4)

            It was Casey's turn to look a little confused by the phrasing. At least two could play at that game. A small smile touched his lips. Casey saw it and immediately changed her attitude.

            "I guess that's the best I'm going to get from you, huh? I'll tell you where to find that son of a Hutt. In fact, I'll make sure he's there so you can kill him." There was something in her smile that Narthias liked. "Wilkes's base is hidden 'out of ether's view'. Andronikos will know what I mean." (5)

            Normally, he enjoyed riddles. But the ache in his joints was hardly conducive to keeping patient. He almost turned to ask the pirate to translate immediately. Instead he frowned and shook his head.

            "You sure Andronikos will know?" (6)

            Casey nodded. "Yep. 'Out of ether's view' is pirate slang. Let me call Wilkes, make sure he stays put. It'd be a shame for you to storm HQ while he's out." (7)

            Narthias curled his left hand into a fist as the right rose toward her. Crimson eyes narrowing, he watched her pause. "Don't do anything you'll regret." (8)

            There was a faint shift of leather behind him as the pirate by the door tensed. But Casey was smiling again. "Like warn Wilkes? We both know that'd be suicide." (9)

            Regarding her warily, the Sith lowered his arm. He sensed Andronikos easing his own position behind him. Casey had already pulled out her holocom and started the signal. In a moment, the grainy blue-white holo of a skinny man with a cocky smirk appeared. Everything else was quiet. And Narthias knew he was going to enjoy killing this one the moment the scum opened his mouth to speak.

            "Casey! Sweetheart! Got something to report? Andronikos hasn't turned up, has he?" (10)

            Only at that moment did he realize that the girl's entire persona had shifted as she smiled blindingly while batting her eyes at the holo.

            "Oh, Sy, what do I have to do to make you stop worrying about Andronikos?" (11)

            Narthias felt his stomach try to lurch upward into his chest. The sudden chill at the back of his neck up around his ears warned him of blood draining from his face. He swallowed hard and turned his focus to forcing his body to behave and stomach to settle. A fine sweat broke out over his temples and neck regardless.

            "Well, I can think of a few things," Wilkes continued with all the smoothness of a slug. "Have you reconsidered my offer?" (12)

            "That's why I called," she said far more smoothly than her would-be paramour. "Are you free in, say, a couple hours? We could talk about it--in person." (13) Her voice purred. There was no other way to describe it.

            "I always have time for you," Wilkes said, falling hook line and sinker. "I'll be right here, sweetheart. Whenever you're ready." (14)

            There was scum, then there was scum. And Wilkes was too stupid to realize he was the latter. The holo vanished as the call ended. Casey's face twisted with disgust and annoyance. From behind came a low growl muffled by a helmet's seals.

            "Ugh, I hate that guy. Andronikos never went for that eyelash-batting junk. But, Wilkes is there. So hurry up and kill him." (15)

            Narthias brought one hand up to cover his eyes briefly and wipe the sweat off his exposed face. Shaking his head, he used the momentary cover to swallow hard. Despite his attempt, his stomach was trying to force its way up into his throat. The sweat made the under armor shift and stick uncomfortably to his skin as it spread.

            "I found that whole exchange deeply disturbing." (16)

            Casey shrugged as his hand fell back to his side. "It's not as bad as it looks," she said with a wrinkle of her nose. "A little goes a long way with Wilkes's brand of self-love." (17)

            The woman straightened and turned to the desk to pick up a datapad. Making a few adjustments and entries, she turned back to hand it to the Sith. Taking it, he scanned the information before clipping it to his belt.

            "But I won't shed any tears when he's gone, to say the least." (18)

            Without another word, Narthias turned to head out the door. After a moment, the pirate followed. Either Casey had not cared about the apparent bounty hunter, or she had just brushed him off. It hardly mattered to him. His attention was on his rebellious stomach and swallowing it back down as he reached the speeder. They were still being watched. Nothing would make him reveal the weakness of his illness in front of them. Especially as he knew exactly what they would think.

            Andronikos barely had time to climb on behind the robed form as the speeder wheeled around and shot forward. The sudden arm crushing about his stomach made Narthias gag and quickly lock his jaw closed. He could only fight off his body's need so long. And they were barely out of sight before he brought the speeder to a neck-snapping stop on its nose. Throwing himself off--and knocking the pirate to the ground in the process--he hit the ground on his knees and choked. The vicious bile that had been forcing its way up his throat was retched onto the sand behind one of the scoured rocks.

            For an eternity, all Narthias was aware of was the foul bile foaming up through his throat and the taste burning his senses, making his eyes water. When the worst of the spasms passed and he could take a choked breath, he clenched his fists in the sand. A couple more dry heaves and the spell was over. For the moment. Swallowing, he grimaced at the rawness of his throat and the pungent burn of the vomit in his nose.

            He only belatedly heard the blaster fire and caught the smell of burnt fur and meat mingling with ozone. Lifting his head, Narthias looked around as he struggled to catch his breath. Several large rodents were smoking on the sands. Coughing, he brought one hand up to swipe the heel of his thumb over his mouth in attempt to clean it. The pirate had both blasters in hand when he turned to face the kneeling sith. One of the blasters twitched as if he was itching to point it again.

            "I never thought Sith got sick," Andronikos said.

            Gathering what little moisture was left in his mouth, Narthias spat the last of the bile onto the sand as he sat back on his heels.

            "It's rare. But this was self-inflicted."

            The expressionless helmet regarded him then turned slightly. Following the direction of the gaze, he looked at the splatter of disgusting yellow-green refuse on the sands. Stomach churning uneasily, he closed his eyes and turned away.

            "It's not the plague if that's what you're worried about," he groaned.

            There were several moments of silence. Then leather groaned as the pirate slid his weapons into their holsters. A thin metallic clank came before the man sank into a crouch and offered Narthias his canteen. Regarding the pirate warily, he took it. Only a sip. Enough to moisten his mouth and rinse the lingering taste free. He spat it out then returned the canteen. Reaching for his own, he took another sip and swallowed. The water was warm but it felt cool to his stomach. It settled down a little more.

            "So, you do this to yourself a lot?" the pirate asked.

            Snorting, Narthias shook his head. Closing the canteen, he returned it to his belt and shifted to sit down. In the process, something hard jabbed his waist and he removed it. Offering the datapad to the man, he drew his knees up to drape his arms over and just take a moment to gather himself. The pirate rose and looked over the pad.

            "Hm. Well, 'out of ether's view' means underground," the pirate mused aloud.

            Lifting his head, Narthias looked back to him, listening.

            "There's a system of caves on the other side of the abandoned farm settlement. I wager that's what Casey meant." (19)

            Pulling his own holocom free, Narthias pulled up the map of the local terrain and found the area in question. There was a lot of rock and cliff around the settlement. While it would provide good defense, it also provided a trap of sorts. He sighed and returned the holocom to his belt.

            "The sooner I get this done, the better." (20)

            For some reason, his arms and legs were shaky and clumsy. Trying to rise resulted in him toppling to the side. A strong hand caught his arm and pulled him straight. Getting to his feet, he turned his head to look at the pirate. Once he was steady, Andronikos withdrew and turned to kick sand over the evidence of Narthias's weakness.

            Moving past the man, he found his control returning the more he moved. Stepping out of the shade, he began to walk. "You can take the speeder back to Mos Ila. I'll let you know when Wilkes is dealt with."

            That same hand grabbed his upper arm. Spinning made his stomach lurch but there was nothing left in it to expel. Narthias glared at the helmet's eyes.

            "Just hold on one moment, Sith. I'm going with you." (21)

            It sparked Narthias's temper immediately. Twisting his arm, he wrenched it free of the pirate's hold. "You've outlived your usefulness." (22)

            Lightning crackled about both hands as shadow seemed pulled from the rock's base toward the Sith's position. The pirate stepped back then moved up into Narthias's space to get practically in his face. Rage and desire burned hot in the man as he stared the Sith in the eye through the shaded lens. If the situation had been different, the confrontation would have been intoxicating. He could smell the hot leather and flesh past the clinging odor of ozone and scorch, mingling with machine oil and some form of spice.

            "Well, it so happens Casey's looking out for me. She encrypted the entry code to Wilkes's base on this datapad." The pirate brought the pad up in range of peripheral vision to wave it for emphasis. "You don't know how to decrypt it, but I do. I've chased him too far to let someone else kill him." (23)

            One thing Narthias knew well was the thirst for revenge. It was a powerful motivator. And he had seen how far it could drive a being to achieve it. For just a moment, he felt himself wavering. Such passion and rage, that darkness in the man and stubborn will. He could almost taste the old metal of ancient wounds laid bare to the world. Ghosts of pain never healed, never fading completely. And he knew those feelings very well.

            His left hand snapped upward. There was no chance for Andronikos to react before the black glove closed around his throat, squeezing just hard enough to constrict his airway. That rage was suddenly focused steadily on him. And Narthias narrowed his eyes before pushing against the pirate's mind. He found broken shields, walls crumbling and cracked, but strong. A touch of insanity? Yes. But determination and focus. This pirate had such ruthlessness within, such darkness. He let his hand fall away as he shoved Andronikos back one step.

            "Just don't touch my artifact," (24) he snarled as he stormed silently toward the speeder.

            "The artifact's yours," came the rough voice at his back. "It's brought me enough bad luck already. And I'm going to blast Wilkes for every day I spent floating in that escape pod. Then I'm going to stomp on his bones." (25)

            Perhaps this pirate was not as bad as the rest. More to the point, his bad was suited to Narthias's own tastes. He found himself wondering as he started the speeder up and felt that arm wind around him, whether he might make use of that ruthlessness. As the vehicle gained speed, he realized that Andronikos had his hold just under his chest and not across his stomach. It was a small consideration. But it was enough to bring something...indescribable to settle in the Sith's chest. And something else spark deeper--and lower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arg! I know, I promised not as much game dialogue. I'm sorry, this is how it turned out. Blame the Force and bloody Jedi Mind Tricks.


	4. Battle and Lust

            The speeder made good time. It skimmed over the surface of the sand the way avians skimmed over the waves of oceanic worlds. They would have likely reached the farm settlement in a little over an hour. Unfortunately, a small sand-storm forced them to take a detour that brought them through a short canyon out into more open sands. And from that point, it just got worse. Smoke was rising from over a dune and despite his irritation and growing need to get the job over with, Narthias turned toward the plume torn by the hot winds.

            Sure enough, when they came over the dune, what lay beyond was going to delay them even longer. A small dune crawler was a smoking heap in the sand. There was a crater blown in one side. The debris of speeders and multiple corpses were strewn over the sands. Movement was present however, able figures half carrying and half dragging injured into the shade offered by the wrecked vehicle. One glance revealed that whatever insignia had been painted on the crawler's side was long sanded off but it was practically impossible to mistake the uniforms on the survivors as anything but Imperial issue.

            Andronikos growled over his shoulder when he brought the speeder to a stop atop the dune. The arm tightened slightly against his lower chest. He did not need to tap into the Force to sense the irritation radiating from the pirate. His own matched it. Turning his head a little toward the man, he nodded once. The growl became louder before cutting off with a muttered word too low to make out. Most Sith likely would pass by in favor of their own agenda. Narthias was not like most of them. He pushed the speeder forward so it could coast down the dune toward the wreck.

            A few of the soldiers had noticed their approach. Weapons were raised but the lack of them was far more pathetic than threatening. Narthias ignored them as he pulled the vehicle to a stop and straightened. Andronikos slid off so he could dismount and they both approached the group. Weapons lowered in that time, recognizing the vestments of a Sith and most soldiers went back to tending the injured. One without armor and in an officer's regalia was busy speaking to what was apparently the comm handler.

            "Get a shuttle out here to evac the wounded. Corpses stay until we've assessed the threat condition." The comm handler turned his head to look at them, making the officer in charge snap, "Now! Don't stand there like some drooling sand-rat, you're an Imperial soldier!" (1)

            The other man straightened and snapped a sharp salute before hightailing it off. The officer turned to face them. For the clearly problematic situation, he did seem quite well-composed save for some filth on his face indicating he had been wearing some form of eye-wear to protect his eyes from the sun. Those eyes were clear and sharp as he looked Narthias over and made a curt but respectful bow.

            "I'm sorry you had to see this, my lord. Not one of our army's finer moments. (2) I am Captain Cibinel."

            With his irritation briefly soothed by the professional and respectful attitude, Narthias turned his gaze to the wreck of the crawler. Most of the supplies were gone, leaving some blasted containers and stray pieces scattered in the vehicle's shell along with a few corpses.

            "What fools attack the Imperial Army?" (3) he asked.

            "Well-armed fools, courtesy of the Exchange. Ever run into them?" the captain asked. Narthias's eyes narrowed and he heard Andronikos tense thanks to creaking leather. "Nasty crime syndicate, likes to use Tatooine as a waypoint. These criminals don't want this rock under Imperial control, so they've been stirring up local resistance." (4)

            "What exactly happened here?" (5) Narthias asked as he gestured to the scene with one hand.

            "The Exchange has been using these caravans to supply the insurgency and keep it active. Every one is guarded by these Exchange tuskers--they're too big to hurt and too dumb to scare, so each one we take down costs us. I was about to tell command we'd need a new combat battalion if we want to take them on, but...any chance you'd like to lend some expertise?" (6)

            Narthias knew the second that Cibinel had begun to trail off that he was going to ask for a favor. His head pounded harder for a couple of heartbeats. Closing his eyes, he took a slow, deep breath just subtly enough to release softly. The officer either did not pick up on it or elected to ignore it. When his headache subsided back to its prior state, the sith turned his head to regard Andronikos over his shoulder. The irritation and impatience was rolling from him--along with something else. It was far more subtle a thing than the sigh.

            Tilting his head, he studied the armored pirate for a moment. Finally, the man nodded once as a burst of that sensation came from him. It only took a moment to figure out the familiar desire for relief from frustration. A familiar form of desire for darkness. So, Narthias turned the solid red eyes back to the Imperial.

            "And what exactly is in it for me?" (7)

            His question clearly took the human by surprise. "The thanks of a grateful Empire?" That only earned him a very flat look. "No?" Bringing his arms up, Cibinel frowned as he folded his limbs across his chest. One hand rose to grip his chin as he thought. "Hm...what do you get the man who has everything?" (8)

            Turning slightly, Cibinel's gaze strayed over his surviving men and the crawler. It was obvious from the spark in his eyes when he hit on an idea. "My men got a bonus for every caravan they shut down. If you step up, the reward money's yours, and well-deserved. You want to help, go follow the caravan routes and take down as many as you can. The locals will assume the Exchange abandoned them. Then we'll see how quickly those puddle farmers beg us to take them over." (9)

            Cibinel pointed to the trail leading off between the next dunes. It was hardly even a trail given speeders had made it. But it was enough to follow--in the opposite direction of their goal. Without another word, Narthias spun. His stomach lurched but only the pirate would have seen the brief slip as his nausea hit. All the rest saw was the fluid ripple and crack of the black robes as the sith headed back to the waiting speeder. Andronikos backed up to give him room and slid on behind him as the engines started. Once more, his arm wound around Narthias's lower chest rather than his stomach.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Jundland was slightly closer to their true destination. Unfortunately there was still a wall of rock between them and the abandoned farms. The consolation for that obstacle was that there were any number of Exchange people not including the pirate's girlfriend that he could kill. Not that Narthias just stormed in. He took time to survey the tiny, poorly constructed camp the thugs were using as a base. Curiously, there were only a couple of battered droids mixed with heavily armed humans and a few aliens. None of them moved like soldiers however which was going to make things a little more tricky.

            Lowering the microbinoculars, Narthias extended them to Anronikos without conscious thought. The pirate was stretched out on his stomach beside him, also surveying the small camp. The device was taken as the pirate removed his helmet to look through them as well. But Narthias took no notice. His narrowed gaze was on the small camp as he considered the movements of the Exchange. Without pattern or repetition, it was more difficult to plan an approach or an efficient strike.

            The dark shape of the microbinoculars blocked his view. Blinking, jerking slightly as his eyes re-focused, he took them. Turning his head, he glowered at Andronikos. However, the pirate was pointing toward the camp.

            "There. That trio is a sentry group. Look at the rock."

            After another glower, Narthias brought the microbinoculars back to his eyes and adjusted the focus. Sure enough, a trio of Exchange people were situated on the blind-side of the camp. The shadow of the rock fell over them and two were sprawled casually on the sand relaxing with weapons nearby but not in hand. The third was a massive human with a huge cannon strapped to his back. It would be a huge threat but it would take him time to release the sling enough to get it into his grip to fire.

            He slowly scanned the other area. Two other bruisers were patrolling in large circles that took them around the entire perimeter of the camp. But they were not moving in the same direction. It created a huge gap in their security. And it was certainly an opening. If they timed it correctly, it was all they needed. Nodding, he lowered the device and returned it to his belt before slowly sliding backward and far enough to rise without being seen. The pirate followed.

            "Good eye," the sith said as he removed excess items to leave with the speeder. "We'll hit that spot once the bruisers pass on their sweeps."

            "Wouldn't be a very good pirate if I couldn't spot a weak point," Andronikos grumbled as he pulled his helmet back on.

            Something about that made a twitch touch Narthias's lips. Not really a smirk but certainly amusement. Turning to regard the man, he let his gaze fall to the blasters at Andronikos's hips. Tilting his head, he reached down to remove the security clip from the base of his lightsaber so it could be drawn smoothly from his belt. It made the other man pop the straps holding his blasters in their holsters as well.

            "I hope you can keep up, pirate," Narthias said.

            Before Andronikos could answer, the sith was gone. Racing swiftly across the sands like the wind rather than a man, Narthias found himself grinning at the curse that came from the pirate. He sensed the other pursuing as quickly as one not aided by the Force could. The distance between them grew as he leapt over the crest of the dune. Pivoting his body, he bent one knee to slide smoothly down the sandy slope while still gaining momentum. His leading foot hit the slightly more solid ground at the base and he let the sharp check bring his body up and forward in a sprint.

            The trio had not yet noticed the dark form soaring over the sands toward them. Crimson eyes darted to the back of the bruiser just passing out of sight behind the column of rock. A deep breath as the grin grew and he turned his focus back to the three that would be the opening to the beautiful chaos to come. The Force flowed through him with the anticipation and lust of the kill. One of the lounging sentries turned her head and spotted him. Her cry of alarm came far too late as he crossed the final six yards.

            His lightsaber leapt into his hand and ignited with a crackling hiss as sinister and eager sounding as he was. Their reactions were pathetic. The bruiser with the cannon did manage to get it swinging around to bear but the motion did not save the skinny man scrambling up to his feet. The saber swung with a loud hum that became a hungry hiss as it sliced through the man's middle and back in a vertical cut across his chest. Narthias thrust his free hand out toward the cannon brute without bothering to look.

            Even as he felt the first man's dying agony and shock, the Force surged along his arm to explode into the air. A thick bolt of violet energy left his palm to strike the heavy gunner nearly point blank to his chest, scrambling his nerves and leaving him thrashing like a puppet on invisible strings. But he was already spinning his lightsaber up and around to cut through the barrel of the girl's blaster before she could get off a shot. Her cry of alarm became an aborted scream as the crimson blade came back in to slice through her shoulder with the ease of a vibro-blade slicing through butter.

            The saber's blade passed easily through muscle and bone to touch the confined air and gas of her stomach. Liquid boiled briefly as it was super-heated and vaporized by the blade before it passed free of the crumpling corpse. In those few seconds, the brute shook off the shock of the jolt and turned toward the attacker. But Narthias was still moving, already spinning. Again his saber rose, twirling in a lethal arc of blurred light to come around and slice through the cannon. It exploded as it came apart and sent the heavier human flying to the side.

            Narthias was hardly moved by the little blast. Standing his ground, he finished his spin only to slide smoothly into the next stance to strike. Only the saber did not come down. He righted the hilt in his hand before thrusting his free arm out. Keeping the saber at the ready, arcs of Force Lightning lanced out from his other hand. The large human thrashed as his body was subjected not only to the devastating currents tearing through his nervous system but something else that tore deep inside his body, burning and ripping its way out through his lungs as if his heart had been the shell of some monstrous nightmare.

            No scream rose as blood bubbled and steamed where it spilled from the human's open mouth. The screams were superficial pleasure anyhow. Narthias fed off the man's agony and terror, devoured his pain. Every new sensation from his victim fueled his own blood-lust and pushed more of that black Force into the man's core to boil and destroy him from within. Only when the last thread of life snapped did he relent his attack. The lightning vanished with a crackle and stench of burnt ozone and flesh as his arm fell to his side.

            Something tickled the back of his awareness and guided him to twist. Then blasters burst into fire. Narthias dropped to one knee, somersaulting forward over his victim's steaming corpse and back up to his feet. Andronikos stood barely a yard away, blasters firing past the sith. Turning, Narthias's crimson eyes narrowed as he looked at the bruiser that had been moments away from blasting him in the back. Not that the human would be able to now. He crumbled to the sands, chest and head a mess of blasted flesh.

            "That's one you owe me, sith," Andronikos said.

            Rather than find the comment insulting, Narthias broke into a grin. So open to the Force, he did not even need to reach out to sense the pirate's current state of mind. It was familiar. A blood-lust to match his own. A fire hungering for more action, more death, more challenge. Within the pirate beat a heart with the same darkness singing through Narthias's own soul.

            "Then you're only down by two, pirate," he challenged.

            For a moment he sensed puzzlement. Then it was gone as Andronikos nodded once. "We'll see who gets the better score here, sith."

            "Just remember, pirate, to the victor go the spoils."

            Almost as one, they turned to race around the pillar of stone. The noise had raised the alarm and it did not require Force sensitivity to catch on that they were about to have a lot of company. Narthias grinned and spun to race up the incline at the foot of the stone pillar toward the chaos. He sensed Andronikos hot on his heels as he swung his saber in an arc to deflect the next three shots directed toward him. Violet energy surged as his free hand rose, sending a blast of lightning into the face of the cannoner that managed to get his weapon aimed and braced.

            The man thrashed only to fall when twin blaster bolts struck his chest. Andronikos came up beside Narthias to take another brute down when the sith spun to slice through another scout's blaster and cut her in two. So alive with the Force surging through him like a wild thing he could practically feel the fear-driven race of heartbeats from the Exchange members in the camp. They were like flashing lights and sirens drawing his attention. And they were almost completely grouped in perfect formation. Only, there was a flicker of premonition as the sith turned toward the camp.

            His free arm rose as he reached out. Grabbing Andronikos's shoulder, he pushed his power and energy into form. Muscle tensed and jolted under his grip when the pirate's body lurched as if struck. Shoving the man forward before time could be wasted with a question, he stepped out of line of sight behind the armored form. Bringing his lightsaber up, he focused on the single familiar presence among the rest. Red against the white. Within his mind, the red turned purple as a Force Shield formed about Andronikos.

            It was necessary for what Narthias was about to do. The positioning was too perfect to pass up. Taking a deep breath, he spread his arms and unleashed his lust and passion for destruction. Violet energy crackled about his hands, danced along the ignited lightsaber, and danced along his arms. It appeared from a clear sky to lance down and strike the ground. Screams of pain and fear rose from the Exchange members caught in the circle of lethal energy. The pirate charged in, hesitating only when he saw that the glowing shield absorbed the bolts that would have caught him.

            Unharmed, Andronikos unleashed his own rage as he cut down thug after thug trapped in the web of electricity. Many fell from sheer overload to their bodies as their nervous systems shut down and fried their brains. It was not an attack he could sustain for long. Gasping as the drain caught up with him, Narthias's concentration broke and he staggered backward. Panting for breath, he regained his equilibrium and turned toward a droid that had not been caught in the attack. Cutting it to pieces, he spun to scan for the next target.

            Something tickled at his awareness once more. But it was not a cannoner or ambush by a stray thug. A small device not quite spherical flew through the air to hit the sand near the pirate's feet.

            "Grenade!" he snapped.

            Just as Andronikos began to dive away, Narthias brought his hand up to grab the air and yank. The man's dive became a flight through the air. Manipulating the Force in such a manner was something he had only ever done once with his lightsaber. And so suddenly after his lightning show meant the armored body's flight was uncontrolled. Andronikos slammed hard into him and they both went flying. The explosion only expedited their landing and resulting tumble. Striking the sand, Narthias felt the air forced out of his lungs when the heavy weight hit his chest again.

            Making his lungs expand to suck hot air in, he lost the breath in a painful cough as smoke choked his airway. The shock of landing had jolted his body hard enough he could not feel anything for a moment other than the weight. As sensation returned, so too did his senses. Opening his eyes, Narthias found himself looking up into an intense kaf-brown gaze. The strength of the explosion or their landing had knocked Andronikos's helmet completely off his head.

            Catching his next breath, Narthias froze. Staring into those eyes barely inches away from his own, he noticed for the first time the amber and gold flecks hidden in that deep brown. Those eyes burned into his own as the pirate's own labored breath seared his lips with heat and sensation. The galaxy suddenly narrowed into that moment as senses thrown open to the Force expanded. He found the man's scent drowning his breaths, the weight of his body and hard edges of his armor making that electric heat spark deep inside. And with all else forgotten, Narthias fell into the moment.

            His hand rose, cupping the back of Andronikos's head at the base of his skull to draw him down. Blue lips found dark tan and parted to open the pliant mouth. The only thing he cared about was having a taste of the pirate to accompany both sight and touch. Perhaps the shock worked in his favor as well since one armored arm slid under his back to pull him up as the pirate met him with teeth and tongue and lips. It was an entirely different struggle between them as they fought for control of the contact, sharing the sensations without thought. Such a perfect moment that was broken when a warning jangled Narthias back to the present.

            Breaking the kiss, he lashed out with one leg, sending them both rolling to one side to narrowly avoid the blast of cannon fire from up the small rise. Thrusting himself away from the man the moment he came on top, Narthias re-ignited his lightsaber to throw it outward. Hardly managing to keep a mental hold on the weapon, he sent it spinning so the blade cut through the cannon and brute. The heavy weapon exploded, sending the barely-dead human flying to pieces across the sand. His saber flew back to his outstretched hand and the blade vanished with a hiss.

            It was somehow bittersweet when he realized he no longer sensed any sentient life in the area. The Exchange had been wiped out. Despite the last moment's pleasure sparking his lust and desire, he felt oddly deprived. The destruction had been all too brief. The Dark Side whispered to him, filled him with the desire for more screams, more bloodshed, more terror. He carefully and stubbornly pushed it back. More would come. It simply would not happen here. Looking down, he offered Andronikos a hand up.

            A tumult of emotion came from the pirate. But Andronikos ignored the offered hand to pick himself up instead. Rather than allow awkwardness to delay them, Narthias climbed back up the incline to the camp. He could sense the pirate's conflict and the ugly things that the kiss or his own reaction had dragged to the surface. For once, the sith did not want to touch those things. Instead, he ignited his saber and began the process of destroying the weapons caches and speeders collected about the camp.

            "You owe me five, sith," Andronikos finally said as the last speeder was reduced to smoking scrap and slagged parts.

            Surprised, Narthias turned to look at the man. The pirate had found his missing helmet somewhere and was in the process of pulling it back on. His emotions were still chaotic but Narthias chose to tune them out as there was still that ugly thing he did not like the feel of. One more glance over the decimated camp and the corpses and he moved past the pirate to head for the dune concealing their speeder.

            "Three, pirate. Two of those you shot were already dead from the storm."

            "Fine," the man conceded as he followed, holstering his blasters. "I suppose we could drop it to one. That trick of yours saved my skin."

            Glancing back, Narthias nodded once. "I figured it would. First time I tried it."

            Andronikos stopped in his tracks. "What?"

            Smirking to himself, the sith continued on. Footsteps in the sand grew closer as the pirate caught up. "Well, I knew it would work on me. But I hadn't needed to shield anyone else before. I'm glad it worked as well as it did."

            "Crazy Sith," Andronikos muttered.

            Narthias smiled despite the discomfort as he came down from the high of battle-lust to again feel the hot sweat chilling his body and the roiling of his stomach. As he caught his breath, he realized that his chest hurt far more than it should for just being winded. Joints on fire despite the new chill creeping through his body, he turned his focus on shutting the pain and discomfort out. The hot wind actually felt rather good on his exposed skin. But when he turned the speeder on and Andronikos climbed behind him he became all too aware of just how good the man's heat felt through the black robes and armor. His condition was getting worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not overly pleased with this chapter. I'd intended much more detail and for more to happen. However, after days (a week?) of frustration, I admit to giving up and posting after a little clean-up. Seems my inspiration is wavering. My apologies.


	5. Vicious Vindication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains GRAPHIC VIOLENCE and TORTURE. If you have any triggers concerning implied rape or sadism, do not read. I did not get as descriptive as I usually do but it may cause some issues for more sensitive readers.

            The abandoned farmstead was about as far from abandoned as it could get. The buildings were all intact and occupied. Not that the occupants mattered as much as the activity outside them. Heavy patrol droids--many with Imperial markings--as well as smaller shock-troop style droids patrolled the compound. Where the raider camp had been unorganized and unstructured, this place had order and command. Maintenance droids worked on battle droids in small groups. Armaments were on the short walls, manned. And humans with a far wider mix of aliens moved back and forth in groups across open areas.

            If the place had once been a farmstead, the Exchange had spent considerable time and credits to transform it into a virtual military compound. Clearly they were intending to stay in power on Tatooine for a very long time. And it meant another delay. The only place that fit Casey's little information was the heavily guarded ramp practically against the back cliff. Since the rockface formed a practically sheer wall encompassing three sides of the compound and the remaining side was heavily fortified, it would be a very big delay.

            Lowering the microbinoculars, Narthias sighed. Closing his eyes, he lowered his head to brace on his forearm. The weight of the tool was tugged from his hand without protest. He just let himself breathe while the pirate took his own scan of the place. It let the sith have a few precious moments to just think. The pain burning in every joint in his body was as relentless as the pounding of his head and the roiling agony of his stomach. Ribs and lungs ached as if a great fist was crushing him inward.

            "Hey, Sith," a rough voice broke through his misery. "You okay?" (1)

            Biting back a groan, he forced himself to lift his head. Eyes opening, he had to squint to focus them. Grains of sand and the black armor encasing his arm came back into clarity as he forced himself to breathe and focus on his ailment. Rage burned hot only to be channeled into hatred. That was the way of the Sith, the way of the Dark Side. He focused that hatred toward his master and her blasted idiotic dreams, her schemes, her insistent prodding. Leather groaned as his fists clenched.

            "Stellar," Narthias growled.

            Turning his head, he placed his palms on the ground to push himself backward before rolling over to sit up with his back against the small outcropping of stone they had crept up behind to survey the area. Letting his head fall back in the shadow of the rock, he briefly closed his eyes and again tried to think. A warm weight came to settle near him.

            "You're starting to look like something a bantha stomped on," Andronikos said in a wary tone.

            Despite his predicament, Narthias found himself chuckling. Cracking his eyes open, he let his head roll enough to look to the pirate crouched near him.

            "There's always a price to be paid for any choice you make. But, if you ever should find yourself caught between whether or not to inject yourself with a highly experimental, untested serum to let you move through a pit of toxic waste...risk the bio-suit and a few extra hours or days instead."

            Andronikos turned his head to stare at the sith as he braced one arm against the rock. "You went swimming in a pit of toxic waste...whatever the kriff for?"

            "To retrieve an artifact," he said simply.

            The pirate took a couple moments before slowly shaking his head. "Crazy son-of-a-Hutt," he finally muttered.

            Narthias chuckled again, coughing when his lungs protested the action. Pulling his canteen from his belt, he lifted it to take a few sips. Although the water was warm, it felt good on his lips and flowing down his parched throat. It tasted vaguely like metal but he found he hardly cared. Screwing the cap back on, he returned it to its place and just sat there to think.

            "We're going to need a distraction if we want to get in there without bringing the entire place down on our heads," the pirate said after several minutes.

            Nodding, Narthias drew one knee up to drape his arm over, other hand clasping his wrist. He had already figured that much. But just what manner of distraction could they use? The place was protected from the wind unless the sandstorm was big enough. The only way leading up to it was open with only a few rocks and scrubby plants near them too thin to provide cover. An aerial assault was out of the question as the cliffs were too high and the way down would take too long. They would be noticed before they got a few feet.

            Misery consumed him for several minutes. Frustration built as every idea to come was worthless. Hands curled into fists as the leather groaned. Eyes clenched tight, he fought the sudden furious rolling of his stomach attempting to claw its way up his throat. The only thing there was water. Yet, despite the few sips he had taken, it felt as if he had swallowed something alive. Nausea was suddenly laced with pain as if something was using claws to shred flesh on its way up. It was a sensation hotter than just fire or acid against sensitive tissue. Cramps twisted inside him as if he were starving and yet his stomach rejected the thought of food.

            That was when he realized that the rage building was not just his own. It was too powerful, spread too far. The sensation came from somewhere else. Somewhere outside himself. Reaching out, he followed the spurts and flickers of that sensation. After a moment, he realized the hunger and rage were leading him down into the earth. Sickness settled bitter and slick in the back of his throat as he touched upon...something. It was too primal, too unbalanced to have a mind. All he could find was rage, hunger, and aggression. Raw. Powerful. And there were a lot of them.

            "Andronikos," Narthias said before opening his eyes to look toward the pirate. "I think I have our distraction."

            "Is it anything like your last plan?" the man asked.

            Even though he hardly felt like smiling, the sith felt a smirk begin to spread across his lips as he tilted his head. "That depends on you, pirate."

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            A figure dragged itself across the sand. The progress was painfully slow as one leg constantly tried to buckle beneath the swaying weight. Gripping a limp arm with one hand, the form staggered closer to the white-washed walls. Soon, a shout of alarm rose from a sentry and droids as well as armed troops came forward to see what was coming. Weapons drew beads on the staggering humanoid but no triggers were pulled. Scouts used their microbinoculars to zoom in on the form for a better look.

            One step on slightly softer sand caused the bad leg to buckle and sent the stranger collapsing hard onto the ground. Several of the guards started forward with two patrol droids. The armored figure was still moving, attempting to drag itself forward over the sands. Just as the guards came near, the prone figure groaned and collapsed fully to the sands. The body went slack and ceased to move. While the droids kept their blasters ready, two of the guards crouched. One reached out to prod the body with the muzzle of his blaster. No response. He reached out to grab the limp shoulder and roll it over.

            Suddenly, the ground erupted around the advance party in a shower of sand and fine dust. Roars and screeches preceded the screams as great taloned hands caught the guards and virtually tore them apart. The sand shower obscured the droid sensors as the units backed up, swinging their upper bodies around to open fire into the cloud. Screeches of pain came before twisted and deformed humanoid bodies sprang from the cover to strike the droids. Wild with rage, the rakghouls ripped through the droids as more of them broke free of the subterranean tunnels to charge on all fours toward the walls.

            The compound was alive with shouts of alarm as sirens began to sound. Five, ten, twenty, thirty of the plagued humanoids charged the base. Blasters opened fire along with the automated weapon turrets. Screams of terror and agony rose as the wave of vicious beasts reached the walls and poured through the open gate to attack anything and everything moving. It was utter mayhem that drew all attention to the attack. No one paid any mind to the figure that had collapsed to the ground leading to the compound.

            Narthias raced over the sands with ease, springing over the sparking ruin of a patrol droid to land lightly on one knee beside the body. His hand dropped to grab the armored shoulder.

            "Now," he said.

            Andronikos nearly sprang up, scrambling to his feet and grabbing his blasters. As the black-garbed sith rose beside him, the pirate shuddered. "I take it back, you're not crazy, you're kriffin' INSANE!"

            Snorting, Narthias moved forward, hands empty. The pirate quickly caught up to run beside him.

            "Told you, as long as you lay still, they wouldn't notice you with all the rest of the activity around you," he breathed harshly. "It worked, didn't it?"

            "I'll answer that when we're inside the bunker," Andronikos snapped back.

            "Just keep your head down, pirate!"

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            The blast doors groaned and gears screeched almost louder than the rakghouls outside. Closing the heavy doors would help ensure they remained outside. Although, with all the chaos above the bunker, the plagued beasts would be sufficiently distracted. No one had noticed them slip around the parameter of the base and down the ramp. The moment they were inside, Narthias relaxed his control and stopped pushing the primitive instincts toward attacking the Exchange. Now it was just the two of them and perhaps twenty thugs between them and their goal.

            Steeling himself, Narthias took a moment to calm the ragged breaths. While the pirate beside him was shaking some sand from his blasters, the sith focused his rage. Pushing the rakghouls had drained him enough to leave him out of breath and a little light-headed. The bunker felt strangely cold to him now that they were out of the heat of Tatooine's suns and he suppressed a shiver. Instead he drew on the terror and death above, letting the darkness fill him and open his connection to the Force once more.

            Andronikos started to move past him. Bringing one arm up, Narthias halted the pirate as he took another moment to focus. Despite how impressive the compound above had been, the bunker was far from complete. And as he expanded his senses, he could see just how rushed the construction had been. It meant they would have to be careful if any of the Exchange waiting for them had any grenades or heavier artillery.

            "Let's try to avoid any large explosions," he said quietly.

            He caught the pirate's flash of irritation before he nodded. Lowering his arm, Narthias moved forward. Turning his head, he waited until Andronikos followed before looking ahead. There was a single sharp turn to the right. Beyond it he could sense the Exchange thugs in groups of three to five spaced along the passage. Considering, he curled his hands into fists and pushed his anger outward. The seductive whispers of the dark caressed his senses and made his heart swell with raw passion. It was slick and cool and thick, like blood and silk.

            The power surged around his clenched fists and licked up along his arms. A malevolent force like fire with crackles of violet energy played about his body. Black cloth rippled as a nonexistent wind lifted it away from armored legs to dance behind him. Every step brought him to gather more dark energy from above as well as within. It built as he came around the corner and into the line of sight of the Exchange. The closest ones immediately shouted an alarm since the attack above had already been noticed.

            Lifting his head slowly, Narthias let his blue lips curve in a sinister smile as blasters were jerked from holsters or spun to bear on him. Instead of reacting, he slowly brought his hands up, elbows bending so he could spread his hands. It was a universal signal that he was unarmed. A few of the blasters wavered. Their hesitation was their end. He tasted the sparks of fear as they realized just what was approaching, what they faced. Several looked toward the lightsaber at his hip. But it was far too late.

            Fingers uncurled as the dark miasma exploded in a crackle of violet energy. The storm erupted from thin air as the sith drew to a stop on the grating forming the passage's thoroughfare. Bodies lurched in uncontrollable thrashing and spasms as he focused on making the arcs of lightning dance from one body to the next in chains of lethal energy. Screams of agony rose as the stench of burning hair filled the enclosed space. As their terror and pain fed him, he pushed the power outward to further fuel the storm, prolonging it.

            Andronikos came up beside him, careful not to stand too close to the lightning-wreathed arms. Bringing his blasters up, he braced and began to very casually snap off shot after shot into the bodies trapped in the electric dance. The stench of burnt flesh joined the odor of frying hair and smell of ozone. It was not an attack. It was a massacre. Bodies dropped like flies in the wake of a bug-zapper.

            Darkness closed around Narthias's vision, cutting his assault off and sending him down to one knee gasping. Panting with need for breath, he forced trembling arms to work as he pushed himself back up. There were more thugs near the back of the passage that had been out of range of his attack. Andronikos was making short work of them and--whether he was conscious of it or not--stepping between sith and Exchange to block him from their line of sight. It was all Narthias needed to recover and refocus.

            "Easier than shooting droids on an assembly line," the pirate chuckled.

            Narthias's hands rose to thrust outward as he stepped to the far left. Clearing Andronikos's body, he unleashed another surge of lightning. When it struck his target, the brute was sent flying backward into the last two standing thugs. All three crashed to the floor in the corner. One hand dropped to grab his lightsaber as the lightning died. Before the pirate could turn his attention to the pile, Narthias used a burst of Force Speed to sprint past him. The violet blade snap-hissed into existence to come down and cleave all three bodies in two with a single stroke.

            With the final spark of life aside from them extinguished, the two straightened. They were at the end of the passage. Another set of blast doors were to the right. They were closed and locked if the red light on the controls was of any indication. Catching his breath, Narthias switched his saber off and turned his attention to the doors. They appeared very solid, unlike the hastily constructed passage they had traversed. Metal guarded and reinforced the stone expertly. So, unfortunately, it appeared they would have to open the doors.

            Andronikos turned after finishing his survey of the doors. Moving to the panel, he looked it over and holstered his blasters. Pulling the datapad from his belt, he held it up to begin working on the encoding. Letting him do what he had to, Narthias chose to focus his anger. Slowly pacing back and forth before the doors, he let his temper seethe from deep within. Drawing on every memory, every experience, every instance that had made him hate, made him mad, made him want to hurt and kill, he let his emotions smolder and draw more power from the Force.

            "I'm going to blast Wilkes to pieces, just as soon as we find him," (2) Andronikos snarled.

            It earned him a dark glance from Narthias. Clearly the sith was not the only one using the brief moment of quiet to focus his emotions on what was to come. The realization made one corner of his mouth twitch with want to curve upward. He turned his attention back to the door as the pirate began to work on the panel. Leather groaned as he flexed his hand about the hilt of his saber, tightening his grip and easing it repeatedly to keep himself busy. Then the seal turned and the doors began to pull open. Narthias came to a stop in front of them as Andronikos came up behind his left shoulder.

            Beyond was a half-finished room containing several pieces of large machinery. The generator was only half-constructed as was the air-filtration system and ventilation controls. A battered looking digging machine was partially buried in the rubble of the far wall. It had probably tunneled too fast and brought the stone down on top of it. That was all inconsequential however as three men rose from a little folding table where they had apparently been having a meal.

            One of the three was easily recognizable since he had been the one on the holocom with Casey. In person, Sylas Wilkes had muddy brown hair and dirty blue eyes. His face was harshly cut from a square block. He had a rather thick middle and broad shoulders. Really, he looked like someone had thrown a few blocks of wood together and chopped the edges and corners off like a child trying to make a toy. The other two were generic thugs with chocolate-black skin, silver hair, and yellow flight suits. Both were armed but appeared a little nervous when they saw the sith walking up the small ramp toward them.

            "Huh, what do we have here? A couple of un-invited guests," Wilkes said in that annoying voice.

            Narthias was debating on answering verbally to toy with the idiot or just letting his lightsaber handle the introductions when a growl came from behind him. The two thugs instantly had weapons trained on them and Narthias moved his left arm out to halt the pirate's advance. Wilkes grinned at that as he folded his arms across his chest and waved one hand cockily.

            "Pretty pathetic attempt at an ambush you know. I'm guessing you got to Casey and made her call me. Smarter than this move. But if I find you did something to her before me, well, my boys will have a few things to say to you too. So how about you knock off the helmet and hood so I can see who sent you after me?"

            The guy was more than a few credits short. But, Narthias had no problem raising his head to reveal more of his face. He simply did not move to push his hood back. Andronikos stepped up beside him and a little ways away before he reached up to take his helmet off. Wilkes actually jerked in surprise when those burning gold-black eyes fixed a murderous glare on him. The arrogant prick was smiling an instant later.

            "Well, well. Andronikos Revel. I'm surprised they let you out of Imperial Prison. And you brought a Sith to help you. How cute. But see these guys? They'll crush you and your Sith." (3)

            Forgetting to continue grinding his teeth, Narthias blinked in surprise before he scoffed. "I'm not cute. I am deadly." (4)

            The cocky grin grew at the simple retort. He sensed Wilkes's confidence in his control over the situation grow. It was perfect.

            "Let me guess. You're here for the artifact. The one the Empire was so keen on getting just before I crushed Andronikos." The cocky smirk faded as anger crossed Wilkes's face. "Would you believe he called me a nobody? 'A worthless, mangy, skinny little nobody.' So I took his ship, his crew, his cargo, his blasters, and what else?" (5)

            Narthias felt the shift in the pirate beside him. As Wilkes continued to gloat on his victory over Andronikos, the pirate's emotions began to shift from irritation and rage toward hate. There was the tang of fear, the skin-crawling sense of disgust and shame. But with their emotions having been so attuned to the same focus, the sith picked up on something else he hardly expected. For just a moment there was a flash of almost-real sensation.

_Disgust and shame was tangled with pain, fear. He felt a heavy body against his own, arms bound and legs trapped as agony ripped through him with heavy breaths against the back of his neck and his hair caught in a fist keeping his head wrenched at an angle making it nearly impossible to breathe._

            Rage consumed Narthias. He could not pinpoint the cause, the source. But suddenly it burned through him far more strongly than he had felt before. Andronikos's hatred fanned it higher. He felt it burning in his eyes, painting everything he saw crimson and orange. Not that Wilkes noticed, too focused on the pirate instead of the sith.

            "Oh, his girl. Who's nobody now, Nikky?" (6) Wilkes finished his tirade of boasting with a leering grin.

            "I'm going to rip out your throat and laugh while you try to scream," (7) Andronikos spat.

            Despite his rage, Narthias found himself grinning wildly as he tilted his head forward and slightly toward his right to regard the pirate from beneath his hood. "All of this chatter is making me bloodthirsty." (8)

            Wilkes snorted. "You'll never beat me, and you'll never get your artifact. Boys," he said as he glanced over his shoulder to the two thugs. "Kill the Sith, but keep Andronikos alive. I'll want to play with him a little longer." (9)

            The burst of fear from the pirate snapped Narthias into action. His saber came to life in his hand as the other rose. A thick bolt of violet left his free hand to slam into one thug's chest, sending him flying backward into the machinery hard enough to buckle the metal inward. Leaping into the air, he flipped over the shocked Wilkes to bring the glowing blade down at the second thug. Blaster bolts flashed as they reflected from the violet edge to strike the ceiling and wall. And this time, he did not go for a clean kill.

            A scream was torn from the thug's throat as the saber sliced easily through his shoulder, severing his arm from his body and instantly cauterizing flesh and bone. Narthias landed hard on the thug, driving the armored spike protecting his knee into the man's sternum. Rising, he swept the saber backward to slice one kicking leg off at the knee and severing the other mid-thigh. Devouring the man's screams, he delivered a kick to the thug's ribs that sent his body flying into the far wall and crashing on top of the rock burying the broken tunnel device.

            Spinning back toward Wilkes, he brought his saber up to cut through the blaster that had been about to fire at the back of his head. Andronikos was already blasting the other thug into nothing but charred flesh caught in melted metal and plastic. Wilkes cast his useless blaster aside to try attacking Narthias head-on. The suicidal move was countered as he deactivated his saber to slam the hilt hard into the side of the mutineer's head. It sent him spinning down into the deck.

            Without waiting for the prick to land, Narthias brought his knee up. His armored shin struck Wilkes in the stomach to send him tumbling over the deck into the folding table. It crashed down atop the idiot and sent the food and drink flying. Following, his free hand rose. The Force wrapped around the table and sent it flying with the sharp jerk of Narthias's arm. Wilkes was coughing and attempting to drag himself away while catching his breath. The grin turned positively wicked on blue lips, baring white teeth that seemed all the sharper for the contrast of hue.

            He was so focused on his prey that he missed the warning of threat through the Force. Suddenly an arm was against his chest, shoving him back as a blaster shot burned through the air where his head had just been. Andronikos kept one hand on his chest as he snapped off a shot toward the thug that had been deprived of his limbs. The one arm that Narthias had left intact had been used to draw a blaster pistol. In one shot, the pirate killed the thug and lowered his weapon. Those smoldering eyes met a crimson gaze and for a moment, there was something important passing between them.

            "Not your time yet," (10) Andronikos said and pulled his hand away from Narthias's chest.

            "You--you idiots!" gasped Wilkes, drawing their attention back to him. "You'll never get it now! Not the artifact, not the blasters, nothing!" (11)

            What little patience Narthias had was used up. Stepping forward, he moved around the sprawled man, studying how he curled one arm around his middle while Andronikos moved to stand on the other side of Wilkes.

            "Give me the artifact, now!" (12) the sith snarled as he released just enough of his black mood to allow it to visibly bleed into the air around him.

            Instead of letting his sense of self-preservation bow to the raw power from the Sith, Wilkes did the stupid thing and snickered. He clung to his bravado like a life-line, never knowing it was dragging him down further. And Narthias decided to show him just how stupid he really was. His free hand rose in an almost casual gesture with fingers uncurling lazily. Shadow stirred about the black gauntlet before familiar violet arcs of power drove down into the traitor's body. As the screams tore free of Wilkes's mouth, Andronikos's arm relaxed to watch.

            Despite his condition, Narthias felt nothing but satisfaction as the prick thrashed in agony on the floor. His arms and legs did not twitch and jerk but locked themselves into rigid lines. Pushing more of his rage into the attack, the sith increased the force of the waves ripping through Wilkes. Finally, he ceased the attack as he felt his head spin slightly. Not that he swayed, he had locked his own knees and kept both arms held far enough away from his body to maintain balance.

            "You're so stupid!" Wilkes choked out. "The great Andronikos Revel chases me across five planets only to fail! Even gets a Sith on his side, and they both fail!" (13)

            Andronikos was virtually trembling with restraint. Narthias could taste how badly he wanted to set into his traitorous first mate. Something held the pirate back even though he had his blaster gripped tight enough to break bone if it had been a limb. "Talk sense!" (14)

            "The artifact--it's cursed. It's cursed," (15) Wilkes panted.

            Andronikos shook his head. "Yeah, I figured that one out." (16) Then he casually moved his blaster to fire a shot into Wilke's right foot.

            "They--they took it!" the man cried after his scream died away. "Just like I took it from you. Took it all--the blasters, the artifact, the money." (17)

            Growing more impatient, Narthias snarled and brought his other arm forward. The saber ignited with a sinister-sounding crack. The blade extended out and plunged into Wilkes's hand before he flicked his wrist. The man screamed as his hand was burnt in two, grabbing for the new injury with his intact hand to cradle against his chest.

            "Tell us where they took it!" (18) the sith roared before unleashing a short blast of lightning directly into Wilkes's stomach.

            "Argh!" he screamed. "Chase them if you like. They went out into the deep desert! They left weeks ago. The Sand People'll eat you before you ever catch them!" (19)

            "I've heard enough," Andronikos growled as he brought his blaster to bear on Wilkes's face. "Now give me one good reason not to blast your teeth through the back of your skull." (20)

            Narthias stepped back as the saber's blade hummed through the air. "Do it--maybe he'll finally shut up." (21)

            The pirate cast him a surprised glance. Shrugging, he nodded. He had the only information worth anything from the pathetic man anyhow. Andronikos grinned with all the malicious joy of a Sith before looking back to Wilkes.

            "I've been waiting to do this for a long time, Wilkes. Can't say it was nice knowing you, either." (22)

            Choking on his whimpers, Wilkes used his elbows to struggle back against the rubble. It was as close to sitting up as he could manage. He sneered up at Andronikos while cradling his wounded hand to his chest.

            "Heh. I have no regrets, Andronikos," he said while raking his eyes up and down the pirate's body with a leer. "Least of all this." (23)

            Suddenly, Narthias reached out. His hand fell to the pirate's blaster and pushed it down. Andronikos tensed, glaring at the sith but lowering his weapon anyhow. Nodding once, Narthias looked back to Wilkes--who looked completely confused.

            "One last thing, scumball," he said while grinning. "Andronikos was being kind when he called you a worthless nobody. Because the only one who cares about you, dies with you. And you die alone. Just another pathetic, brainless, spineless, worthless ball of scum no one is going to remember."

            "Nikky'll remember," Wilkes spat. But there was finally a spark of fear forming.

            Sinking down to one knee near the idiot, Narthias leaned forward to speak in a lower tone that Andronikos would still be able to hear.

            "Will he? Once you're dead...he'll stop caring. You're nothing but more food for worms, Sylas. And you won't even die like the man you think you are."

            The lightsaber hummed as it came closer. Wilkes had two seconds to realize what was about to happen. Narthias drew it out to make sure that spark of fear became full-blown terror. Then he brought the tip of the saber up between the twitching legs. He devoured the screams of sheer agony and terror that virtually poured from Wilkes as the saber slowly seared through his cock, burning away the flesh, boiling the blood, constantly cutting and cauterizing inch by inch as the Force trapped the thrashing body in place without hope to escape.

            When the last bit of pathetic flesh was burnt away, Narthias shifted to rise. It angled the saber's tip up to slice through the blistered flesh of his testicles. At last, he deactivated the lightsaber and looked the still-screaming man over. Wilkes was practically senseless with agony and horror. Feeding off it, the sith waved one hand, Force-slapping him into silence and back to awareness. Shock was setting in. And Narthias was finished with the affair.

            "Pathetic sack of meat," he spat as he walked away.

            Andronikos did look quite pale but the emotion permeating the Force beyond rage and hatred was...satisfaction. Vindication. The fear was gone, passed to the blubbering Wilkes. The sound of a blaster firing came from behind before the frail life was snuffed out of existence. Narthias paused outside the open doors so the pirate could catch up to him.

            "Idiot. Lost your artifact and my special-made blasters. Just wait until I get my blaster pointed at those thieves." (24)

            Rolling his shoulders, Narthias clipped his lightsaber back to his belt and headed down the corpse-strewn passageway. "Less talking, more hunting." (25)

            He could no longer pick up the intense array of emotion from the pirate following him. However, Andronikos was conflicted about something. Ignoring it out of respect and manners, the sith simply walked on. Shortly the pirate brushed past him to head for the panel controlling the outer blast doors.

            "Come on. The sooner we get out there, the better chance we have of showing them thieves what's what." (26)

            Narthias caught the glimpse of a grin on the pirate's face before he pulled the helmet back on. It was enough to make him grin as well. Besides, the bunker really was getting too cold for him to stand much longer. He had to get out into the sun to warm up. The chill was making his entire body ache, not just his joints. They had to finish this quickly. His condition was getting worse by leaps and bounds.


	6. The Setback

            The rakghoul attack had all but finished by the time they made it back to the surface. Blood stained the sands, already nearly dry as the precious moisture was sucked into the air and ground. There were still stray shots audible and the lingering resistance kept the plagued beings from noticing the two figures quietly slipping over the wall and out into the desert. Returning to the speeder, Narthias pointed it into the canyon heading north and kicked the engine into high gear. Andronikos's arms were again around him but again careful not to press against his stomach.

            In the hours it took to traverse the canyon complete with doubling back to take routes not leading to dead ends, hints of cooler air teased at them. The skies began to darken as Tatooine's suns sank closer to the horizon. What was truly strange however was the one dead-end they encountered led them practically into the heart of a village belonging to Sand People. They did not linger longer than it took to wheel the speeder around and leave but it was curious that aside from a couple smoking fires, there was absolutely no sign of life.

            Deeper in the canyons, they found another small group of tents left in much the same style. No fires were alive however. And most of the possessions visible in the vacant village were absent. While Narthias was hardly a tracker, he did know the signs of evacuation. While the first village was left abandoned, this one had been cleared out completely. And given he had taken a look at the rakghouls when they attacked, it was not hard to fit the rags and strips of cloth visible on some of the more humanoid ones in with the garb of the Sand People. The beasts he had used to distract the Exchange had been from the first empty village.

            By the time they found a clear route taking them up out of the depths of the canyon, the skies were darkening quickly. Coming around a bend made Narthias slow the vehicle and look toward the lights positioned near the top of a rise to the right of a fork in the rock. The left fork led downward and back into the canyons. And the lights to the right were illuminating the standards of the Empire in red and black glory. If he recalled the map viewed earlier that day, they should be near the Imperial Outpost Zaroshe. Mos Anek was in the other direction.

            Sure enough, as they approached the gateway, Imperial guards stepped out from behind the stone pillars closing the gap to a choke point. Weapons ready, one of the armored men flagged them down. Bringing the speeder to a stop a few yards away, Narthias let the engine power down to an idle and fixed an irritated glower on the guard approaching.

            "My apologies, my lord, but travel is not permitted beyond this point until sunrise."

            It was not unexpected really given both the plague outbreak and the dangers on the Dune Sea, but it was still enough to darken Narthias's temper.

            "I have business to attend to, soldier. It is not the Empire's problem."

            The trooper shifted uneasily. "I'm sorry, my lord. But orders came through three hours ago. Any nocturnal travel is restricted due to the plague outbreak. You're more than welcome to spend the night in the outpost but we cannot allow you passage until tomorrow morning."

            For a moment, Narthias debated. It would not be that difficult a thing to just knock the soldiers out of his way and speed through. With his condition worsening, time was vital. However, common sense worked through. Even with the Force aiding him, in the dark he might miss hints of any trail the thieves may have left behind. While it was probably already erased, traces might linger. He would have to be able to see all around him to pick those up.

            "Very well," he finally said.

            Paying no mind to the relief visibly washing over the soldier, the sith turned his head toward his shoulder. Andronikos took the indication to climb off the speeder. Narthias pushed it forward, giving enough power to let it glide over the sands easily. Leaving it inside the gate near the wall, he powered it down and slid off. Flipping his robes out of the way, he pivoted to head for the tents clustered around one of a handful of small buildings.

            Arranging quarters was easy enough. The outpost's commander--one Major Brega--was pleasantly respectful. He took the rakghoul report wearily then offered the use of his own quarters to Narthias. It saved him the trouble of insisting on private lodgings and provided access to the outpost's communication terminal. Once the Imperial business was finished, the major took his leave. It left Narthias alone with Andronikos.

            "I'm going to take a look around here. Saw some traders when we came up the rise. Think I'll see if anyone saw our thieves," the pirate said as he opened the door to leave.

            Left to his own devices, Narthias turned toward the terminal and sat down on the stool before it. Pulling his holocom free, he set the device to one side of the machine with the recorder on. Opening a secure channel, he stared at the screen's text display summaries of major events on the holonet. A crackle of static and flicker of blue light drew his attention up. The blue-washed holo of Major Ilun appeared.

            "My lord!" the officer said in surprise. "I hardly expected--that is, what may I do for you?"

            A smirk tugged at Narthias's lips as he studied the hologram. Even surprised and standing at attention, Major Ilun managed to be respectful and subservient with a certain touch of dignity. His nervousness was to be expected although this time there was very little of the prior awkward nerves displayed before he was summarily promoted from the sith's actions.

            "Major Ilun, I have decided to take your advice. Given your familiarity with the serum Iannos Tyrek made for me, I want you to select a capable medic and brief them on the details. You will then send them to me for that medical examination you were so insistent I receive."

            Worry made Ilun drop his attentive stance as his arms fell to his sides. "Oh, um, yes! Immediately, my lord. Have the side-effects gotten worse?"

            Narthias bowed his head enough that the hood would conceal the grimace that crossed his face. "Excessively. Which is why your medic is expected to make all haste to Tatooine."

            Ilun shifted slightly, turning to look at something the hologram did not reveal. Nervous energy made him fidget slightly. Then he moved out of the holocam area. When he returned, he had a datapad in hand, furiously pushing buttons.

            "There may be a problem with that order, my lord. Due to the increase of infestation caused by the rakghoul plague, all travel to Tatooine has been forbidden. Even with your express orders, I'm afraid that anyone I send would be prevented from landing."

            Growling with irritation, Narthias curled his hands into fists. Thinking for a moment as Ilun wisely held his tongue and continued to look through the information on his datapad, the sith frowned. Suddenly, the major straightened and looked back toward the sith.

            "Yes, yes this could work! A strike team has been dispatched to the Ezran system. Reports indicated a station in the area is being used by smugglers aligned with the Republic. One of the best medics I know was assigned to that strike force. And the carriers are easily capable of handling a rendezvous between smaller ships such as yours."

            Turning his attention back to the holo, Narthias began entering his inquiries into the terminal. It calculated the distance from Tatooine to the Ezran system to be 2,696 parsecs. At that distance, he could reach the station in several hours. Checking the distance from Balmorra to Ezran made him frown. It would take a strike force days--as it had taken him to reach Tatooine.

            "How long ago was this strike team dispatched?" he asked.

            Major Ilun consulted the datapad. "They should reach Ezran Outpost any time within the next eighteen hours. With your permission, my lord, I could forward your orders for one carrier to wait within the system for you to meet. That is, when your business on Tatooine is concluded, of course. Provided you gain clearance to leave, sir."

            Again the deferential advice and careful covering of any possible offense. It did make Narthias smile. "Make the arrangements, Major. And if anyone protests, inform them who is giving the orders. If I arrive and find no ship waiting..."

            The man swallowed hard, straightening to stand at attention with that nervous pride. "Yes, my lord."

            Cutting the transmission, the sith pivoted the stool to lean against the terminal for a moment. He was so deep in thought that he had no idea just when his head dipped. Somewhere between mentally working through the distance to Ezran and planning tomorrow's venture into the Dune Sea, he dozed off.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Something nudged him. Growling irritably, he shifted to bat the thing away from his shoulder with one hand. When it left, he let his arm fall and slipped back toward the welcoming embrace of darkness.

            He was moving. Barely aware of something scooping him up, he squirmed on instinct. He did not want to move. He was fine where he was. The warmth caused him to still. It was so warm. Reaching out, he found his hands caught, tangled on something. Tugging, he growled until his arms got free and wound around that warmth. Pulling it close, he curled up, bowing his head to nuzzle into the heat.

            It was cold against his back. More moving. He was being shifted. Growling, his fingers curled against hard edges, gripping tight. Something murmured. The sound was pleasant. A deep rumble almost like a purr. With a sigh, he relaxed.

            "Kriff, sith, you're freezing!" came the rough, deep words.

            Again he growled, unhappy at being pulled from sleep again. But it was true. His body was wracked with shivers. So cold. It was like every bone in his body was made of solid ice. The sensation hurt it was so intense. Clattering in the air. He finally figured out it was his teeth chattering. The ground vibrated. Soft ground. He was sinking! Lashing out, he struggled, trying to find that firm thing he had been holding.

            "Easy, easy...you're okay, sith," came the voice again. It was clearer.

            Then that heat was there again. Rich, heady, solid heat that pressed against his back and almost burned him through the layers of cloth. Wait, cloth? Where was his armor?

            Fighting the grip of chills and sleep, Narthias twisted against the warm things holding him. His eyes did not want to open. Making them, he blinked and squinted, barely able to get his eyelids to part more than a sliver. It was dark. One small light--bluish white. A holo? No, a terminal screen. He was in bed. Then it came back to him in a rush. The artifact, the Exchange, the rakghouls, the desert, the call, the pirate.

            Coherency returned at an extremely sluggish rate but he woke enough to realize just what the source of the heat was. Andronikos was pressed against him. The pirate's body was so warm it was like a furnace. Somehow, the man had gotten Narthias's armor off and removed his own. They were together in bed and he was wrapped in his robes and the blankets, smothered in layers. Andronikos's chest was firm against his back, powerful arms wound around him, legs pinning cover-swaddled legs down.

            "Hey, relax. Just gonna get you warm, sith. Go on back to sleep."

            Another wave of chills struck, robbing Narthias of his chance at saying anything. Letting his head fall back onto the pillow, he curled up as tight as his involuntarily jerking muscles would allow. The pirate mirrored the motion, increasing the heat as he practically covered the Chiss. It helped. And they stayed tightly pressed until the wave passed and the shivers eased slightly. Then those strong hands so skilled with blasters were rubbing his arms and sides, working across his chest a little clumsily.

            "You know, you really don't need to go to all this trouble just to live up to the saying 'cold blooded Sith'," Andronikos joked.

            Narthias snorted at that. Amused, but silent due to his still-chattering teeth, he closed his eyes and tried to make his body relax. It did not obey. The chills had too deep a grip. Despite that, the pirate continued to mutter and rub his body. Most of what he said was lost on Narthias as he drifted between the attack and slumber. Eventually, he faded again, slipping into an uneasy sleep with that rich, rough voice guiding the way and that warm body wrapped close around him. He never knew when the shivers finally stopped. But Andronikos never knew when his hands found their way into Narthias's own to hold through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd intended to make this chapter longer. But...that last scene struck me as so sweet in my mind that...I had to let the boys get some rest. At least someone I know can do that. Hope you enjoyed. I can't know if you did if you don't comment!


	7. Take Two

            Joints ached. His body was so cold. Warmth surrounded him, baking his back and crisscrossing his chest. Something barely tickled the back of his head in soft surges of warmth. The sensation of being confined bled through before he could identify the sources of the other impressions. A strange numbness had taken hold of his body. While he could feel the chill emanating from his bones, all other sensation was muffled and confused. It made him shift. Suddenly, memory exploded as the awareness of cloth tightening around his body broke through the detached state.

            Eyes opened slowly rather than suddenly despite the abrupt coherency. Remaining still, he blinked and tried to focus. Memories returned in dream-like fuzziness. The last thing he clearly recalled was sitting at the terminal thinking. A sensation of movement. Warmth. A voice. He frowned as he tried to remember just what that voice said. It was amusing. The words refused to come. Regardless, he figured out what was so warm and holding him down. His aborted shift had not woken the pirate holding him in sleep-heavy arms.

            This development both intrigued and puzzled Narthias. From what he had gleaned, the man had been through an experience that by all rights should have turned him away from anything remotely close to this situation. And yet, here they were. It was possible--if highly unlikely--that he had used the Force to persuade Andronikos. He discarded that thought. Not if he could not even clearly remember what transpired between the terminal and the bed. It would have taken a lot of mental focus.

            Motion came against his back. Already lucid enough for his mind to be alert, Narthias did not tense or respond. Instead he evened his breathing out into the deep and slow pace of a sleeper. Since his hood was still mostly over his face, he did not need to close his eyes all the way. His body was still pliant and relaxed so he made sure to ease his features as well. Another shift. A deeper breath pushing against the hood at the back of his neck. A sigh. When the arms tightened around him, the sith was suddenly torn between a surge of warmth and the sharper sense of entrapment. He remained calm and "asleep".

            Andronikos must have been exhausted himself. The pirate nuzzled against the back of the sith's covered neck as the leg thrown over trapped legs moved in a familiar gesture. Narthias was a second away from parting his lips to say something when Andronikos went rigid. Clearly, the pirate just woke up and realized where he was and who he was with. There could have been two possible reactions, the pirate chose the more peaceful one. He slowly and carefully withdrew one arm and leg. Pulling back, he managed to ease his other arm out from under the "sleeping" sith.

            It took a while but Narthias had to admire the skill and patience. He was not entirely certain if the act came from consideration or a more simple desire of not getting caught in an uncomfortable position with a male. Either way, he continued the "sleep" act until Andronikos was free. He listened intently without need of using the Force as the pirate carefully went about getting his armor on. Just as he decided it was time to drop the pretense, a hand fell on his shoulder to give him a shake.

            "Hey, Sith," came that richly rough tone. "Still with me?"

            Just as Narthias began to stir, the pirate's free hand slid under the fall of his hood to touch his cheek. The sensation of hot, naked flesh seared straight through him. It hardly seemed to matter that it was only a bare hand against his bare cheek. Catching a breath, he shuddered.

            "Kriff, you're still freezing."

            Fighting against the blankets and other covers he had been swaddled in, Narthias managed to get his arms free enough to bat at the pirate. Shooing him out of personal space, the sith gave a few vicious jerks on the remaining bindings. It truly was rather chilly inside the major's quarters. And while he was able to sense a strange conflict from Andronikos, he chose to ignore it in lieu of getting his legs untangled.

            "I'm fine, pirate," he growled. "What time is it?"

            There was a beat or two of silence while Narthias took stock of himself. His armor was all missing save the mesh under-weave and his robe. He was thus still both decent and adequately protected should any unexpected attack have come during the night. Somehow, that did strike a small note of disappointment. He quickly squashed it down and turned his attention on getting burning, throbbing joints and achingly stiff muscles to obey his commands.

            "Four hours after second sunrise," came the answer.

            Anger suddenly sparked as crimson eyes flashed. Yet, he did not whirl to unleash his ire on the pirate. Andronikos had done something few if any in the galaxy would risk attempting: caring for an ill Sith. Instead, Narthias released a growl and turned to look for his armor.

            "You should have roused me sooner," he grumbled. Of course he knew that Andronikos had only just woke himself, but he did not poke at that conflict he felt by revealing he had been awake the entire time.

            "I would've, if you hadn't been shivering all night. You're the one with the fancy powers, Sith. If we're going to find these thieves, you need to be on your game."

            There was a bit of bite to Andronikos's response. The conflict was fading as the more familiar impatience and itch for action returned. It was for the best, really. Narthias pushed away the tickle of disappointment it brought as he began to get his armor back on.

            "Better make sure our water's restocked and the speeder's where we left it. I'll see if the major is ready to allow us to leave yet."

            A grunt came before the pirate left the small hut. Behind him, a wave of hot air swept into the building and nearly made Narthias melt. Shaking himself, he returned to the task at hand. Re-fitted with his proper garb, he returned to the terminal. Retrieving his holocom, he checked for any messages and attached it to his belt. Activating the outpost's terminal, he sent a call back to his ship. It took a few moments before a familiar droid's head took shape.

            "Master?"

            "TwoVee, I need you to do a little investigating for me. Find out who posted the bounty for Andronikos Revel and any pertinent details associated with the matter. Have the information ready for me when I return to Mos Ila."

            The droid nodded. "Of course, master."

            Cutting the channel, Narthias considered. Parsecs, numbers, time, appointments, and an entire list of minor things requiring attention assailed his thoughts. Sorting through them, he focused on the matter most pressing: getting on the trail of the artifact thieves. He could afford no further distractions. That included diversions of passion outside of murder and mayhem. Even if the distraction pushing the speeder bike into the open did provide a very powerful passion, it was not one he would use for his own gain.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Heat embraced him like a lost lover the instant he stepped out of the small building. Although he wanted nothing more than to pause and revel in the sensation, Narthias turned his attention to searching for Major Brega. The middle-aged human was near a dark tent speaking with a couple of armored Imperial troopers. While Andronikos was checking the supplies, it gave the sith time to head for the major. Unfortunately, he was waylaid by another officer in an unfamiliar uniform combination.

            "Ah, perhaps we stand a chance after all. It is a relief to see you, my lord. The entire Empire may one day have cause for gratitude that you arrived here at precisely this moment." (1)

            Irritation flared even as Narthias halted in his tracks. He turned his crimson eyes fully onto the man to look him over. The dusty brown skin was dark from exposure to the suns and there were traces of dirt outlining several wrinkles on his face. The thin mustache was entirely wrong for someone with such an unevenly receding hairline despite the close buzz-cut. The top was standard Imperial grey but he wore yellow pants and a hat mimicking a standard officer's uniform.

            "What could possibly have happened here that's of interest to the *entire* Empire?" (2) he sighed.

            "Well," the officer said a little uneasily as he shifted his stance like a guilty schoolboy. "Perhaps I...overstated the case a bit. But you could certainly help us teach a lesson to those who deny our mastery of Tatooine. I am Officer Vengo, Imperial Reclamation Service. My men and I were escorting prison laborers to a Czerka dig site. We were ambushed by a bunch of Republic cowards who cut down my men and freed the prisoners. There was a Jedi leading them." (3)

            Despite his irritation at what he could foresee as just another delay, the man had perked his interest. One brow rose as Narthias finally turned to face him.

            "As it happens, this wouldn’t be the first Jedi I’ve crossed," (4) he admitted, already anticipating a challenging fight.

            "Perfect, my lord. It’s a chance to bring the Emperor’s justice to these zealots!" Vengo said with a beaming smile. "I’ve already overloaded the prisoners’ shock collars--they should be quite injured. According to my sensors, they’ve stopped moving. I expect they’ve gone to ground in the deep desert to tend the wounded. If you want to help, track them there...and make sure they never leave." (5)

            Now Narthias's eyes narrowed. It seemed all too convenient suddenly. He was already headed in the very direction this man's reports were indicating. The deep desert seemed like a strangely popular location. And something about the presence of Jedi as well as thieves bearing a Sith Relic...seemed too coincidental to be random. He had no proof of course to link the two incidents together. With his experiences with the Force however, he had learned to trust his instincts and feelings.

            Officer Vengo had already moved off. Frowning thoughtfully, Narthias turned back toward Major Brega. Channeling his irritation away from the current preparations, he waited for a moment so the Imperial could dismiss his troopers. A simple inquiry of the weary man confirmed they could leave at any time. There was also a report from a trader that had arrived early in the morning about an aerial raid obliterating an old farmstead during the night. It did not take a genius to figure out just which location had been cleansed.

            "You seem preoccupied, sith," said a familiar voice. "Did you have breakfast?"

            For a moment, Narthias just had to stare at the pirate. Here was a man who was ruthless, cunning, vicious, passionate, and more than a little mad, asking about something as domestic and mundane as breakfast. Something about that just did not seem to compute. Especially not after the strange puzzle encountered during the prior night. If anything, Andronikos was beginning to confuse the sith more than anyone else had.

            "Not hungry. Did you finish your business?" he asked as he headed to the speeder.

            The helmed visage nodded as the pirate followed. "Yeah. Couple of traders saw what might be our thieves about five days ago. Said they headed northwest, following the cliff-line into the desert."

            "Then that's what we'll do."

            "Imperials said there's several Sand People camps up that way near the end of the rocks. But I got the feeling we picked up another side-trip. Am I right?"

            Narthias simply snorted as he climbed onto the speeder to start it up.

            "Something like that. Ever go up against a Jedi before, pirate?"

            The speeder dipped as the man climbed on behind him. Starting the engine, he waited until Andronikos gripped his shoulders. Pulling away from the outpost, he tilted his head to listen for an answer.

            "Never had the pleasure. Is that your way of saying we're going to tell one hello?"

            As the vehicle gained speed--and skimmed down a dune to pass out of sight of the outpost--the pirate's hands migrated from Narthias's shoulders. Once more, armored arms went around the sith's middle between chest and stomach without pressing too hard on the lower armor.

            "Maybe. But it's a good bet there will be more than one. Just worry about the prisoners. They'll probably fire back. Leave the Jedi to me."


	8. Breadcrumbs

            The cliffs cast short shadows over the sand. In the morning hours, the shade was actually comfortably warm. At least, comfortable to Narthias. He decided that while he could do without the burning joints, freezing bones, and a stomach that seemed to hate the heat, the side effect of being otherwise impervious to the heat and sun was a blessing. While their quarry had days on them and the desert had already swallowed any trail they might have left, it was not as impossible as it would have been to search the entire galaxy for their prey.

            A little over an hour from Zaroshe they came upon the first indication that they were on the right track. The cliffs were either ending or cut back out of line of sight to stretch to the south. When they came over the dune, the lines of a dark, standard-issue tent stood out in the shadow of the rocks. Whoever had set it up had made the mistake of not placing it properly against the stone wall. Due to the pale sand all around it, the shelter stood out rather than blended in.

            What drew Narthias's primary attention however was the small brown hut that was more properly set against the rock face. Rounded, it had a familiar design and several equally familiar figures moving outside of it. One or two were also moving near the dark tent. Sand People had set up a hunting camp on the site complete with a couple of large lizards used as both hunting beasts and guard beasts. And they had been spotted. It was rather difficult to get a stealthy approach on a speeder with the dunes.

            Rather than step on the brakes, Narthias leaned forward and hit the boosters. He felt the pirate's arms tighten reflexively at the sudden acceleration. Then Andronikos withdrew. Armored thighs pressed against the sith's own as he put a little space between to draw his blasters. One of the lizards had started to charge to meet them as three of the Sand People raced forward, taking aim with their long-barreled blaster rifles.

            Barely slowing, Narthias brought the speeder whipping around, easily avoiding the first four haphazard shots. Using the Force to hit the breaks, he let the vehicle spin around, engines kicking up a wave of sand in the process. Then he leapt upward, using his bent knees to gain altitude with a powerful thrust of Force. His saber ignited in the cloud with a snap-hiss, vaporizing multiple grains and turning others into sharp little missiles of glass. Andronikos was snapping off a good array of shots at the advance party.

            The shots that came toward Narthias were easily deflected in an arc and spin from his saber. Coming down, the glowing violet blade plunged straight into the open mouth of the giant lizard. Its venom struck the dark armor and sizzled harmlessly as the glowing blade plunged straight down the beast's gullet to cut through the base of its throat. Knees striking the creature's back, he wrenched the blade to the side, slicing through flesh and bone to cut the great flat head in two.

            Rising from his crouch, Narthias leapt forward to sprint past one of the Sand People that Andronikos had taken down, leaping over the other still falling to the sands. He met the rest of them head-on. There was not much satisfaction to be had in killing the humanoids sadly. Where others would have that burst of terror and despair, the Sand People only ever had rage and determination to the end. It was more like cutting away at the source of his own power. But, he was still able to draw from them to strengthen his connection to the Dark Side. It craved death as much as it craved fear and anger.

            It was over in about one minute. The Sand People lay dead along with their pets. Andronikos headed for their hut while Narthias took the dark tent. Nothing much was left. The Sand People had picked the place apart. A few dark stains on the bedding piled in a corner hinted that something violent had happened. When Andronikos joined him, a simple shake of the pirate's head informed the sith he had come up rather empty-handed as well.

            The foldable table in the tent had been kicked over and the lantern presumably sitting on it was broken, lying on its side under the flap of the tent. Leaning down, Narthias pulled the table up to see if anything was under it. His boot connected with something buried in the sand. Andronikos dropped to one knee to retrieve it as the sith tossed the table on top of the discarded bedrolls.

            "A datapad. Looks like the same encoding I used. They're my crew all right."

            Turning, Narthias looked to the kneeling pirate as he fiddled with the device.

            "Can you unlock it?"

            "Yeah, just gonna take a minute."

            Moving to the tent opening, Narthias looked out to scan the dunes. A hunting camp was not that unusual. However, Sand People had not seemed the sort to leave too great a distance between their smaller camps. With all the blaster fire and honking cries from the now-dead raiders, it was only wise to keep an eye on the surrounding sands.

            "Got it!" Andronikos announced a few moments later.

            Rising, he stepped over while scanning the data before offering the pad to the sith. Taking it, Narthias moved into better light to read what had been saved to the device.

_We've been in this desert three days now. About midday the day we left, Nerrik  
__tried to turn back but Haze would have none of it. We couldn't have Nerrik telling  
__Wilkes. We forced Nerrik to continue at gunpoint. At nightfall, we all got together  
__to talk about what to do about Nerrik. Haze wanted to shoot him. But Haze wants  
__to shoot everyone. But then the Sand People attacked and took care of Nerrik for  
__Ever since that first night, we've kept a watch to warn us if the Sand People  
__attack. Not that it does any good. Without the lights from town, you can't see  
__anything in the desert at night. Tomorrow, if we're still alive, we plan to head  
__north._ (1)

            Frowning as he reached the end of the entry, Narthias glanced to the tent. The pirate was standing to one side of it, scanning the immediate area while fiddling with one blaster. Considering the camp, the sith glanced back the way they had come then to the speeder that had come to a stop and shut down not that far away.

            "It took them three days to make it this far? Did they walk?" he mused aloud.

            "Probably," the pirate's rough voice answered. "Haze never was the brightest in the bunch. And if they were sneaking away from Wilkes, doubt they'd have had access to any transports given what we saw at the farmstead."

            Narthias could only shake his head. "Idiots."

            Andronikos shrugged. "Pretty much. They mutinied after all."

            Snorting, the robe-clad form headed for the speeder. Tucking the datapad into one of their supply sacks, he slid onto it and made sure everything was still working. Not all types of vehicles could take Force-handling without repercussions. The engines started up smoothly after a slight hitch and he checked the handling by running it in a short circle. Everything was fine. He stopped to let the pirate climb on.

            "They said they were going to head north? That's the Dune Sea," Narthias murmured to himself.

            "My guess is that rock of yours got to them. They never seemed to be this stupid under my command."

            With a shrug, Narthias gave Andronikos time to settle securely before turning the speeder to face the great open expanse of sand dunes. Crimson eyes narrowing, he took a deep breath and reached out to the Force. A faint tug came from somewhere in the sands so he started the vehicle toward it. Somehow, he just knew it was going to be a very long day.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            The second camp was in nearly the exact same shape as the first. About the only difference was that the tent was half buried under the sand and the Sand People were not a hunting party. The banthas caused a minor problem simply due to their size. One beast went down and the other left once its handlers were dead. It was the work of two hours to dig down far enough to find the table. Narthias used his temper to Force-sweep and uncover the next datapad.

_First Nerrik. Then Jak, then Haze. Now Ford. I don't think I can take it anymore. I_   
_really think Paal is trying to kill me. He said it was the Sand People who got Haze_   
_and Jak, but he's lying. I can tell. He killed them while they slept. Haze, because_   
_he had the artifact. Jak, because he accused Paal of killing Haze. If I hadn't seen_   
_the Sand People kill Ford and Nerrik with my own eyes, I'd think it was all Paal. I_   
_just hope he doesn't find this, or I'm next. We plan to head east in the morning. I_   
_hope I live to see it. (2)_

          The second datapad was just as strange as the first. Narthias took a moment to re-read the entry as he sat down on the back of a dead Sand Person. Lowering the device, he just studied the dunes around them. What had these thieves been hoping to accomplish in stealing the artifact and the money then coming out to the middle of nowhere? Ships did not even fly over the Dune Sea. It was too hot and the shifting fields typically prevented sensors or navigation from working in full from the air.

            Not only was this escapade lacking clear plan and intellect, it was purposeless. They made their getaway on foot rather than taking any mode of transportation. While they did seem to have brought decent supplies, what was with the datapads left at the campsites? Of course, both datapads expressed the possible lethal outcome should they be discovered, so why make them in the first place? Equipment being left behind could be reasonable if they had to move fast to outrun the Sand People.

            It seemed far too easy to sum the stupidity and purposeless actions to madness caused by a Sith artifact no matter how powerful it might be. The entire venture was smelling more and more like a trap. If not a trap, certainly a setup. And that made him wonder about the prison transport's destruction and this Jedi. For all he tried to puzzle through it, he simply could not figure out what manner of picture all the events outlined. He simply could not see the full connections.

            "I think we're done here, sith. Ain't nothing left here but corpses."

            And that was another thing. At this site they had found human bones and the rags of clothing. Clearly someone had died and been...hacked up. He wondered if the Sand People truly did eat the flesh of anything they killed. It did not add up either however as he had often seen them kill and leave the bodies. Surely the artifact could not warp the minds of the raiders so deeply? Or, were the remains devoured by rakghouls that had since departed the scene?

            Shaking his head, Narthias sighed and moved to rise. Halfway up, his knees were torn out from under him by searing pain. Barely able to gasp at the sensation, he fell forward onto the sand. His elbows and shoulders exploded in the same sudden fire. It burned in every joint, spreading as his heart beat viciously in every burning point of agony. Narthias was unaware of anything but the pain and the sensation of his awareness slipping.

            He was brought back by something slamming into his back. It sent him forward onto a hard bar of something that kept him from getting a mouthful of sand. But something else happened in that moment that his breath was knocked out of him: a stabbing sensation. Something bit into his body just below the base of his throat. Tingling rose and spread rapidly from the point as awareness returned. It was only after a moment of feeling that nearly electric buzz spread through his body that he could make sense of the matter.

            The pirate was again holding him. Narthias managed to open his eyes enough to see the sand maybe a foot away from his face. He was on his knees, crumpled over Andronikos's arm with the man's other hand on his back. An injector from an emergency kit was near one black-armored knee. The tube was empty. What he felt as a tingle through his body was a concentrated dose of kolto. It had finally reached his burning joints. Like a cool foam, it smothered the pain and lowered it to more tolerable levels.

            "...not gonna leave me stuck in the middle of nowhere without a clue which direction takes me back to civilization. Might be a big desert but it's just another damn escape pod," Andronikos was saying.

            "Is that--how you say--you'll miss me--pirate?" Narthias finally managed to wheeze out as he regained control over himself.

            "Look, I get that Sith have this need to terrify, but you don't pull that flack with me," the pirate growled. He did not, however, allow Narthias to drop face-first into the sand.

            Pulling himself upright, the Chiss just sat on his heels and let himself get reoriented. Looking around, he reached up to rub the injection spot. It was mildly sore but hardly anywhere close to the rest of his pain. He actually felt better. A lot better. Enough that he managed to rise with only a little wobble and sway. Standing was even easier.

            "The datapad said east, right?" he asked the pirate.

            Andronikos rose as well, dusting himself off. Nodding, the helmed head turned to scan the dunes. While it only took the sith a moment of listening to the Force to figure out the direction, the pirate appeared to be at an utter loss. Taking a little pity on the human, Narthias turned to head for the speeder. Regardless of his spells, he was going to continue driving--as it were. He turned the nose in the right direction. After another moment, the pirate climbed on behind him and they were off.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

_It's all over now. Paal's gone raving mad. He accused Bekis of trying to kill him_   
_at the last campsite and shot him. We were already deep into Sand People_   
_territory at the time, so the blaster shot drew all kinds of unwanted attention._   
_Those beasts had us on the run for three days. Out of the fifteen of us that started,_   
_there's only me and Paal left. Now Paal's talking about taking the artifact to the_   
_Sand People's camp to the north as a "peace offering". I tried to tell him there's_   
_no way we'll walk away from those beasts' camp alive, but he wouldn't listen. (3)_

            The third datapad was almost predictable. The message it contained was the same. The only thing that Narthias had not anticipated was that the surviving thieves would actually go to the Sand People. As he handed the device back to Andronikos, he brought his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose and just rub it. His stomach had resumed trying to flip and crawl up his throat in the last hour. Doing his best to ignore it, he tried to push aside that feeling of walking into a trap.

            "Stay sharp, Sith. The thieves ran right into the beast's mouth--the Sand People camps," (4) the pirate said.

            Nodding rather than reply verbally, Narthias let his arm drop as he stepped over the vivisected corpse of the Sand People that had taken over the third camp site. It continued to sound more like a case of terminal stupidity and the manipulations of the artifact. And yet...they had also come close to the coordinates of the destroyed prison transport that Vengo had asked him to handle. They were close enough he could taste the ghostly hint of pain and suffering in the back of his throat like a half-remembered flavor of food.

            "They run in a giant circle, chased by Sand People, picked off by their raiders, and wind up going into the heart of the very thing killing them." Narthias kicked the scorched pole of the Sand People hut they stood beside. "I'll never understand nerfherders."

            A strange sound came from Andronikos. It took the sith a few moments to work it out and find it was a chuckle. Shaking his head, Narthias released another sigh and moved toward the speeder. As the familiar weight settled and equally familiar grip was secured, he turned the vehicle to the southwest. Of course the pirate spoke up as they pulled away from the decimated hunting camp.

            "Hey, Sith. The thieves went the other way."

            "I know," Narthias said. "But there's pain and suffering in this direction. I need to hear something scream."

            Behind him, Andronikos said nothing. The conflict was again present despite the rise of eagerness he felt. The pirate was looking forward to another fight as well. Try as he might--without prodding at the sensation--Narthias could not quite figure out the source of the internal struggle plaguing the man. Still, he chose to again leave the matter be as he stretched his awareness toward those distant sensations. Even so far away, he picked up on a rather familiar sensation almost masked by the rest. There was a Jedi with the injured prisoners. And that alone seemed to make the day a lot better.


	9. Monster Maker

            Narthias was not an average person. Long before his unfortunate fall into the pits of the Sith machine, he had realized his own abilities. He possessed a brain. And he also possessed the ability to use it. When he graduated from primary school, he had discovered the will to combine those two powers and use them. Time and experience honed his skills. It was a point of carefully guarded pride that was one of the center pieces of his entire galaxy. His cunning and attention to the details everyone else missed had placed him ahead of any of his peers.

            So when he realized that the strange tug he had felt during the search for the thieves' second camp was still drawing him out into the wasteland of the Dune Sea, he quickly understood it was not the artifact that he had touched. Something else was waiting over the sea of sand and endlessly rolling dunes. It was a feeling not unlike the power of the artifact, but stronger, older. Regardless of his nausea, head and bodily aches, and the ever-present impatience, he was intrigued enough to follow.

            Despite the endless dunes of sand, Tatooine was not easy to traverse. What looked like calmly rolling hills concealed sudden pits or low ridges of rock thrusting up out of nowhere. The speeder could not be turned full throttle due to these hazards and a lot of time was spent going around obstacles of one sort or another. But at last, they found the wrecked transport. And it was a pleasant surprise when the tracks leading to the south-west instead of back toward the outpost had not been touched by wind or gravity.

            Hours passed as they moved deeper and deeper into the Dune Sea. Finally, not even the maps seemed to be of use in pinpointing their location. They had passed beyond the areas that had been named. And the desert here had long-ago consumed any rockfaces from the surface. It meant slow going and watching for sudden pits and shelf-drops. The heat this far out was almost lethal. While it was still pleasant compared to the cold in the core of his bones, even Narthias felt sweat begin to bead his skin as time moved on.

            Andronikos was silent save for the occasional odd sound from when he took a sip of water from his canteen or made an adjustment to his seat. While the armor the pirate wore did have a workable bio-control to help warm or cool the wearer slightly, something about the man made Narthias believe he was not yet resorting to using it. That was fine really. Not even he could tell just what was waiting for them at their destination. Well, beyond wounded prisoners and Jedi.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            The presence snapped his attention away from mulling over the persistent pull. It was a slightly stronger source in the midst of the sense of pain he had been trailing. But the new awareness originated from a point a few degrees east of that old, dark beacon. Slowing the speeder, he sat a little straighter to turn his attention to the new development. When he reached out--it reached back. And then the shields rose. Contact cut, Narthias could not help but grin as a soothing rush of darkness rose from within his chest to spread through his being.

            "What is it?" Andronikos asked when he felt the shift in the sith's body frame.

            "Jedi," Narthias said, virtually purring the word. "And they know I'm coming."

            Rather than waste his energy speaking, the pirate simply shifted to check his blasters. There was no real point in attempting to sneak up on the site given the Jedi had likely already spread the alarm. Circling the wreck of an unknown ship that had crashed at some past point in history, Narthias took a deep breath and let that slick-sweet darkness rise to envelop his awareness. The Force rose within like a new sense of passion. He felt that distant tug grow stronger as if responding to his power as well.

            "Focus the prisoners, the Jedi are mine," Narthias gave the last order quickly as he brought his knees up. "Take over. I'll distract them."

            A curse came from the pirate at his back just as he gathered both Force and strength to spring upward. It had initially been a spur-of-the-moment move the first time he leapt from the moving speeder, but he found he enjoyed the advantage it gave him. Soaring through the air, he flipped as his saber hissed into life. Bringing the blade down, he cut the nearest moving figure in half before his boot and one knee met the sands. Pushing forward, he sprang over the still-falling pieces of humanoid to sprint into the cluster of injured prisoners.

            Four of the escaped men were down before he heard the speeder's engine go silent and blaster fire started up. Satisfied that Andronikos had managed, he shifted his attention to bigger threats. Turning his back to the pirate and prisoners, Narthias held his lightsaber out to one side as he approached the pair of Jedi standing on the highest dune in the shadow of the old wreck. One was taller, clearly middle-aged. She was dressed in pale tan robes and appeared serene if wary. He could pick up nothing of her. The girl hovering to her right however was a different story.

            Her restless little fidgets betrayed her unease. She was in tan and yellow clothes with only a long tunic simulating a touch of that elegant flow of the older woman's robes. Unlike the older woman, her head was bare and the messy brown strands were pulled back into a hasty tail. Dun-colored eyes darted between the approaching Sith and the older Jedi. It only made Narthias smile. Clearly this padawan was more raw than he was if she could not control her inner emotions at all.

            All amusement on his part was wiped away when the elder Jedi brought her hands up to push her hood back. He stopped as she revealed herself. It was a face that he had only seen on holos, but it was also one he would never forget and never mistake. To him, Jedi Master Vanera Sre'cri was too infamous to simply pass into obscurity. She was the very woman who had led the attack force which killed his parents when the Republic attempted to stage a blockade of the Chiss system. He had been young at the time, but he would never forget seeing this particular woman's face when watching the holos delivering her statement of intent.

            Of course, there was no recognition from her. They had never met face to face. Not until now. Anger surged to the fore. The instant it did however, something deep inside shifted. While his rage burned like wildfire to consume his senses and turn his vision red with hatred, deep inside he was calm and cold. That sensation was intense in itself, clearing his mind despite the rampant emotions as he picked up every little detail from the stance to the distribution of weight, the position of hands and legs, the changing dilation of pupils and where they moved.

            "I offer you this one chance, Sith," Vanera said. "This is a mission of mercy, one that does not concern a mere apprentice. You have already fulfilled the mandate given by the Imperials to cut prisoners down. If you take your mercenary and leave now, we will allow you to depart unharmed."

            That made one brow rise. Although the black hood rippled in the hot breeze, he knew that the women would not see the gesture. What surprised him was that a Jedi, guardian of peace and justice, was offering to let him go after he killed several poorly armed and injured civilians. The surprise was swift to fade when he thought about what he had learned of this particular Jedi's methods and history during the war.

            Rather than give verbal response, Narthias grinned and sprang into the air to cross the remaining distance up the dune to strike. A sickly green-yellow blade with a white core snapped into existence to meet his violet-white one in a crash of thunder. Using his momentum to aid the strength of his shove, he forced the Jedi to slide back a step as the sands shifted. He knew that up close, even over the different colors of light from their sabers, it would be impossible to miss the cobalt blue skin and crimson eye left exposed by the deep black hood.

            "Five thousand, three hundred forty-one," Narthias hissed.

            Vanera blinked, expression shifting so slightly anyone not attuned to the Force or body language would have missed it. She was clueless. It made his rage flare hotter as he broke the saber-lock to spin and attack again. Off to the side, the padawan stood frozen in surprise. Reflex had caused her to grab her own lightsaber but it rested dead in her hand as she watched the two face off.

            "What significance is that number?" the Jedi asked between parries and blocks.

            "The number of civilians you slaughtered in order to kill six hundred planetary defense troops," he spat with venomous hatred in his tone.

            As their sabers locked once more, he saw the recognition dawn on Vanera's features. Her steel grey eyes narrowed sharply. So close, so aflame in wild power from the Force, he caught that momentary flicker of...disgust? It was enough to make him pause. The Jedi took advantage of his hesitation to bring her free hand up and thrust her palm toward his chest. The Force threw him backward, tumbling down the sandy slope before he caught himself halfway down.

            "Your people chose of their own free will to ally themselves with the Empire during a time of war. I bear no fault for responding to the imminent threat they represented."

            Narthias snorted at that, crimson eyes narrowing. Pushing himself off his knees, he rose and spun his saber in an arc as he pivoted to face her again.

            "Thirty-two civilian transports. Five passenger shuttles. Two orbital satellite stations. All destroyed simply to get to two cruisers and fifty fighters. All of them--minus the satellites--turned to flee when you broadcast your declarations of intent."

            Bringing his free hand up, he thrust it forward. Shadow pooled around his palm, flickering crimson at the edges like a wreath of cursed fire. Vanera staggered when the attack struck, burning in toward her core. Gasping, she went to one knee as putrid shadows rippled and writhed over and under her flesh, tormenting her with the sensation of disease ravaging her body. It gave him the chance to start toward her when the padawan was suddenly there.

            His violet saber met an emerald green blade with sky blue core. The force of the blow made her stagger and it was easy to knock her to the side. Spinning, he caught her off-balance swipe on his blade again.

            "The Chiss are enemies of the Republic! You can't blame one person for what happened in the course of a galactic war."

            Eyes narrowing, Narthias regarded the girl. He could sense the fear within her but she was managing to control it. The fire he saw in her eyes was tempered despite the slight bursts of emotion. She would be a powerful opponent in the future. But she was not the target of his hatred or his rage. And despite the blooming skill, she was not on his level yet. Rather than cut her down, he gathered the Force and made it explode outward, sending both Jedi tumbling away from his position.

            "Not a single one of the civilian ships was armed. Not a single one had any defense. When they turned to run from Jedi Master Vanera Sre'Cri's declaration of intent, she gave the order to open fire on them despite their broadcasting their status and lack of defenses."

            He felt and saw the hesitation and uncertainty in the padawan as she struggled back to her feet. Bringing his saber up across his body, he pointed at her. Her own saber flashed up defensively as if expecting an attack. By rights, he could have. He did not.

            "This is not your fight, padawan. Stay out of it."

            "You attack my master, you make it my fight!" was the response.

            Exhaling, Narthias shook his head. "Your passion is admirable, as is your loyalty. But have you realized that while you stand here trading words with me, you have left the prisoners you sought to free...utterly defenseless?"

            The girl's eyes widened at that. It made him grin again. A sense of motion behind touched him through the Force and he dropped to one knee as his saber swept up. He blocked Vanera's downward stroke and thrust it away only to dive forward into a somersault that took him to the firmer footing at the base of the dune. Ending the tumble by getting back to his feet and spinning as gracefully as a dancer, he flicked the trail of black robe out of his way to face Vanera and parry her next strike.

            "Your master hardly seems concerned with their well-being either," he said an instant before taking a boot to the stomach.

            It served to break his concentration and remind him just how volatile his condition was. As he crumpled to the ground, his stomach forced up what little water and bile it held. Choking, he retched onto the sand as his joints burned. Suddenly, the ground lurched beneath him, quaking hard enough to slam him face-first into the sand as gravity hammered him from above. He heard the hum of the lightsaber coming toward him, saw the shadow approaching through watering eyes, sensed the thickly veiled malice and disgust from the Jedi approaching for the killing blow.

            Weak arms jerked as he twisted to slam his back against the bucking ground. Another explosion of thunder came as blades clashed and he brought one knee up. The armored guard hit something firm that gave. Vanera released a yelp of pain as her knee popped audibly. The Jedi crashed to the ground near him as he rolled away with a tiny burst of Force to put distance between them. Just out of saber's reach, he stopped and spat the foul taste from his mouth. Forcing water out of his eyes, he glared toward the rising woman.

            "I can sense the illness permeating your body, Sith. Even so, had you taken on my padawan, you would have won. But your hatred for me is your downfall. You are of no threat to a fully trained Jedi."

            Coughing, Narthias found himself beginning to chuckle even as Vanera drew closer for the kill. Pushing himself onto one burning elbow, he brought his saber up close to his chest to focus on listening to the hum.

            "And the blind arrogance of a Jedi will be yours," he said with a grin.

            Without warning, a hail of burning red bolts filled the air around Vanera. She dropped into a crouch and danced backward, saber flying up and around in a defensive screen. Most of the shots were sent into the sand to turn the grains into sludgy balls of glass. Twisting, Narthias looked up the rise to see Andronikos kneeling and firing non-stop at the Jedi. The pirate would stand no chance as the Jedi regrouped enough to draw upon the Force. A shimmering shield formed about her body as she brought her free hand up to reach toward the pirate.

            The newly formed balls of glass in the sand trembled and rose as she reached out to grasp them. Sand rose as the ground trembled. Chunks of rock burrowed their way up from beneath the dunes to break into the air. The resulting tremors kept Narthias caught in place as his balance was again disrupted. Rolling further away, he caught a glimpse of several small spheres flying through the air just as Vanera attacked. Explosions rocked the area as the grenades went off. But he heard the pained cry from the pirate as the Jedi's attack struck.

            Narthias took a deep breath of air laced with smoke and ozone. A chuckle emerged once more as he decided to cast off the turbulent chaos of his surface emotions. The volatile rage--blinding hatred--the fuel for the fire was pulled back into the depths of his heart as he released a trembling breath. Then another that was smoother. He closed his eyes and plunged into that cold calm within. It was a different sort of darkness than what he was used to. It ran deeper, calmer, clearer. Where rage and hate and lust burned fierce and bright, this was something that was meant to endure.

            Eyes closed, he pushed himself up rather slowly. The fire in his joints melted away. The ice in his bones thawed. He separated himself from the pain and weakness. As Narthias rose, he felt the world shift around him. It expanded yet condensed as the Force flowed through him. Hatred burned but it was transformed into something cold and hard. His anger cooled and became something closer to poison. And when he opened his eyes, he saw everything. He saw what had happened and what would happen, before it all crystallized into the moment.

            Andronikos had been yanked through the Force to the firm ground between the dunes. While the pirate had managed to drive the padawan further away with the grenades, he had been disarmed and snared in a Force Hold. The grip did not crush his throat. Instead, it used a combination of blinding light searing his sight and spiraling winds that tore the air out of his lungs. Prolonged exposure would result in asphyxiation and blindness. But Vanera was also poised with her hand slowly curling into a fist. In moments, she would crush his heart within his chest.

             The woman before him had taken too much from him already. His mother. His father. His friends. His future. She was not going to take anything else from him. Nothing. Not even the pirate fighting for both breath and to reach the last grenade on his belt. Bringing his free arm up, Narthias reached toward the choking human. Shadow emerged from his glove, seething into the air amidst small crackles of violet lightning. He reached out through the Force and found the threads of Vanera's power easily.

            "No," he said.

            Wrapping his will around the flow of Force, he let the darkness bleed through the light. Vanera gasped in shock and pain. The light flickered and faded as darkness wound around Andronikos. Pulling the pirate back down to the ground, he tilted his head to fix his glare on the Jedi. He sensed the man stagger and go to his knees as he gasped for air to regain his senses. Nudging the air, he pulled it out of the Jedi's grasp to push into the man's helmet and help him regain his equilibrium. One step at a time, Narthias began to approach the source of his hatred.

            "No, you've taken enough. You've killed enough. This ends here."

            Vanera turned toward him, eyes narrowing. The sith lowered his arm although a stream of shadow continued to flow from his hand toward the pirate. His focus was on restoring the man to full capacity.

            "You--you're not--how? How can you do this!?" Vanera demanded.

            A familiar grin began to spread across blue lips as he advanced. Lightning crackled along the blade of his saber as the hum grew stronger, the light brighter as if it was picking up on his energy itself.

            "You should know, Jedi. Or, are you really able to call yourself that anymore?"

            This time it was Vanera who attacked. The violet blade rose in a smooth sweep to meet her strike for strike. It was so simple. Every motion came as smoothly as a dance, as naturally as breathing. He could see every attack, every feint, every move. And with that vision he could see every counter and the outcome. It was effortless. And with every counter and every parry that drove the Jedi back, he felt his power grow as satisfaction and lust bled through the cool embrace flowing through him.

            "There is no emotion, Jedi. There is peace. Or have you forgotten your own code?" he asked.

            "What would a Sith know about being Jedi?" she snapped as she spun in a flurry of arcing yellow light.

            Leaping backward, Narthias flipped away to land easily on the slope of another dune. Alerted through the Force, he spun in time to thrust his free arm out. The padawan that had been about to strike from behind was sent flying away in the explosive blast. Rather than risk her interference again, he twisted his wrist as she struck the sand. Purple lightning laced with shadow lanced out to tangle around her form. Lifting her from the ground, the dark whirlwind spun her in place, trapping her as the electrical pulses kept her off balance.

            Spinning back around, he brought his saber up to meet the yellow one once more. This time, his boot met Vanera's stomach to send her flying backward. She crashed into the dune and rolled to the base in a flurry of sand. Remaining where he stood, Narthias took in her proximity to Andronikos. Anticipating her next move, a sphere of violet energy crackled to life around the pirate just in time to shield him from the deluge of small but lethal projectiles directed at him.

            "More than you would, it seems," he said as she whirled back to face him. "I sense the chaos within you, Vanera. Your emotions are slipping through your control. There is no peace for you, is there?"

            Gathering herself, the woman brought her arms up and thrust them down and toward him. Prepared for the attack, Narthias drew on that deep well. Rising from the ground as it began to jolt and quake beneath him, he hung in the air as that electric thrill blossomed from within. Lightning danced around his hovering form and twisted along his arms as they spread wide in mocking invitation. Before she could take it, he thrust both hands toward her with saber still securely grasped.

            Her screams of agony were like the richest of wine to his ears as the lightning storm raked through her body. Unlike before, he held nothing back. Weaving shadow and lightning, he tore through her mind and body, ripping sensation and emotion out only to twist and shove it back into her. Every memory of the screams over the comm, of the ships exploding, of feeling the loss of life he had not understood then, of feeling his heart torn out and crushed when he saw his father's ship blow up before his eyes was thrust into her.

            Every drop of pain, every instant of rage, every agonizing emotion was slammed into her with the increasing jolts of lightning. He caught the stench of burning hair on the air and breathed deeply of the ozone and agony. Terror, pain, rage, sorrow, her shields were shattered and walls torn to the ground beneath his assault. Viciously, he tore images from her mind, ripped thoughts free to turn over as her flesh burnt and burst. He saw her actions on the bridge of the command ship, heard as she did the transmissions from the fleeing vessels, ignored the protests of her commanders as she gleefully ordered the fleet to attack.

            It ended abruptly, shocking him back into his own body as the lightning exploded into nothing. Landing heavily on the sand, he took barely a moment to draw another breath. Vanera's smoking, agonized body twitched on the sands. Bones had broken in the throes of electrocution. Joints had burst as the liquid in the tender tissues boiled. Her skin had blackened and burst, leaving her a grotesque shell of herself. Yet she still lived.

            Crossing the sand in calm, unhurried strides, Narthias drew near the fading Jedi. Looking down at her trembling, jerking remains, he made certain to commit the atrocity to memory. It would serve him well in years to come. Tilting his head to one side, he brought his idly humming saber in to use the tip and nudge a dislocated hip. It brought a torn whimper from the body as the remaining nerves registered a flare of signals. He truly did appreciate using Force Lightning. It typically kept the nerves intact through the duration.

            "Now, at last, you see what your actions have wrought, Vanera. Had you kept to the path the Jedi hold as sacred, this would never have come to pass. How the mighty have fallen."

            Narthias was smiling again. It was almost gentle as he looked to where her eyes were. They survived despite the fate of her body. The saber rose to hover near her nose as he regarded the blood-filled gaze.

            "Did I not tell you that your arrogance would be your downfall? You have only yourself to blame that you fell from grace long before I was forced on this path."

            Vanera wheezed at him, throat filling with blood as her damaged lungs strained for air. She was drowning in her own remaining fluids.

            "End...it... Kill...m...mme."

            That made his smile grow. Considering, he drew the saber down so the point barely brushed her chest. "Perhaps I would, if you were still Jedi. But there is no place for honor among the Sith."

            She lurched upward to impale herself. His thumb flicked the switch to deactivate his lightsaber before she succeeded. Lowering his arm to his side, he chuckled and slowly shook his head. "No, Vanera. You showed no mercy. So none shall be shown to you. I believe I prefer you like this."

            Circling her, the Chiss kept his gaze on her fading form. "I could keep you like this, you know. Call a transport here. Load you up. Put you into a kolto tank. Of course, it would only keep you alive. A grotesque living reminder of what it means to cross me. To threaten me. To try destroying what is mine."

            Drawing to a stop at her side once more, he grinned down at her. Shifting sand alerted him to the pirate's approach. Andronikos came up behind his left shoulder to look down at the charred body. Reaching out, he brushed against the human's mind. He felt the chaos within the pirate. What served a pleasant surprise was the utter lack of horror, disgust, or pity. If anything, that blood-thirsty darkness was present. The man must have picked up on what was happening sometime during the fight.

            "Go get the speeder, pirate. I think I prefer to leave her like this."

            Andronikos looked to the sith. He nodded once and turned to head up the dune to where he had parked the vehicle. Glancing after him, Narthias felt a touch of that desire rise once more. Vanera made a sound to pull his focus back. Shaking his head, he sighed.

            "If only you were worth feeling pity over. But, I have a padawan to deal with now. You'll have to excuse me."

            A gargled wheeze came from the dying woman as he turned away. Ignoring her, he walked to where the girl was still caught in the Force-spell. Raising his hand, he withdrew the power, dissolving the trap and letting her fall to the ground. His arm lowered as she coughed, catching her breath. Unlike Vanera's trap, his allowed her to breathe although the cyclone did make it difficult.

            "I do not kill children. You have done nothing to warrant my grievances toward you. Go. I give you a chance at life. And if you survive the Dune Sea, inform your superiors that I have taken care of their little corruption problem for them. This time. I may not be so lenient should it happen again."

            Picking herself up slowly, the padawan glared at him. She kept her emotions in check however. Turning away, he headed for the dune as the sound of the speeder's engine came. Andronikos came over the crest and coasted down to a stop a few feet away. When the pirate slid back, Narthias took his place at the controls. Glancing to the still-glaring padawan, the sith shrugged. One hand rose to form a fist. Vanera released a weak cry, arching upward as a ball of violet energy exploded from her chest, removing any hope the girl might have held to save her master.

            Bringing the speeder around, he sent it forward and accelerated away from the site of the massacre. The corpses of the prisoners were glimpsed in passing. Only when sufficiently out of sight of the lone survivor did Andronikos wind his arms around the black armored torso. Narthias felt the slightly tighter grip but found his stomach was not yet attempting to rebel. And as he began to drift free of the Force, he found he actually appreciated the tighter hold. It felt nice to be hugged--even if unintentionally.

            There was one more task waiting before he could turn the speeder back to civilization. A dark beacon that was like a spot of black in a field of light. Now he could see it in the distance. He could visualize its location as if his breakthrough had brought more than the battle into crystal clarity. Power was calling. Since he had revealed himself, it was calling for him alone.

           "The Jedi still only counts for one you know," Andronikos said over the sith's shoulder.

            If Narthias had his way, the arms currently holding him would belong solely to him before they returned to spaceport. One way...or another. He did not bother to take note of the grin that spread across his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies this took so long! Real life, moving, stress of getting my mother into a place to be taken proper care of...it's a hassle. If you're enjoying, please leave a comment? It hurts the muses to see so little feedback.
> 
> Take care out there, everyone! Another update will come soon, promise!


	10. Run and Fall

            It turned out that they had to reach their destination on foot. While the speeder had managed to survive their demands for two days, the full heat of the Dune Sea finally burnt the engines up. Thankfully, it was not more than a few miles to their goal: an ancient-looking sandcrawler fallen into a giant sand trap. It was a pit with sheer rock walls. Sand had buried almost two-thirds of the vehicle but had not filled the hole beyond that point. The scene was indeed strange given the amount of sand piled in the dunes reaching right to the edge of the rock lip. One good storm or even a week of wind should have filled the pit to the top.

            A brief search of their supplies revealed a high-tensile line typically used to rappel downward. Finding a place to secure it on the lip of the pit, they descended into the trap. The loose sand at the bottom let them sink up to mid calf before they could work their feet free. Once able to move over the sand it only pulled them down to about their ankles. Andronikos had a more difficult time moving and often turned walking into a short tumble but there were no major mishaps. In fact, the pit seemed unnaturally still. No pests or beasts showed themselves as they circled the wreck.

            When a closer study provided no means of entry, Narthias ignited his lightsaber to cut through the thick armor. He knew the source of the pull was inside the vehicle. The rush of toxic air escaping the long-sealed crawler only made his nose wrinkle. The pirate kept clear. When a large enough hole was cut, Narthias kicked the thick chunk of hull inward. It landed with a loud crash that echoed inside the crawler. Giving mind to the still-glowing edges of melted metal, he ducked into the darkness beyond.

            Purple light from the saber blade revealed what had to be the crew quarters just behind the cockpit area. That meant it was unlikely the crawler had gone into the pit nose-first. Strange, as strange as the entire tableau so far. Keeping the weapon ready, Narthias began to make his way deeper into the crawler. Andronikos managed to get past the still-soft edges of the hole and shortly had a lantern lit. Despite the better light, Narthias kept his saber activated and ready just in case.

            They found the source of the beacon deep in one of the smaller cargo holds. It was not overly impressive to look at. Cubical, it looked like a chunk of slagged metal sheets folded together. When the sith reached out to pick it up however, the deep grooves between the edges of each "sheet" came alive with a deep crimson-white light. It glowed like veins of blood pulsing amidst the gold-tainted ridges. And the light revealed runes and symbols previously concealed. Narthias knew instantly that what he held was a holocron. A very, very ancient holocron if the runes were any clue given some he had never seen before.

            Night had fallen while they were exploring the sandcrawler. It did not take much debate to decide on using the wreck as shelter from the cold. Unlike the previous night, Narthias did not shiver. While an uncharacteristically silent pirate watched between bouts of sleep, the sith sat cross-legged on the opposite side of the fire simply staring at the holocron. In the morning, after being shaken away from his contemplation of the relic for some rations of breakfast, Narthias led Andronikos back toward the Dune Sea and the distant outposts.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Somehow, time warped around them. The journey that had taken up a chunk of daylight on a speeder barely took half of the day to return. Perhaps it was because walking they traversed a path they had already passed and knew where to take short cuts. Distance melted away. Andronikos saved his breath except for a few muttered curses when loose sand sucked at his feet and legs. Their water was getting low despite conserving it. But Narthias found the longer he walked, the less he felt tired or ill.

            A steady flow of dark energy came from the holocron, infusing him with power. So used to fighting the weakness and illness, he did it unconsciously from habit. He kept one hand on the cube clipped to his belt. It was necessary. But it still managed to surprise and confound him when they climbed one tall dune to spot the white-washed domes of a settlement in the distance. Despite the reprieve on the horizon, it took another hour to get close enough to make out other details. Familiar hide banners were driven into the sands about the settlement.

            The Sand People had claimed the farm as one of their long-term camps from the size of the tents and the amount of their goods strewn about. What truly seemed off was the lack of life present. Two or three Sand People were gathered near this tent or that, or in the shade of a small out-building. The majority of their tents were empty and had subtle signs that they were abandoned. It made infiltrating the camp easy. And in less than ten minutes, Narthias and Andronikos were standing outside one of the last occupied huts.

            Whether the occupant was a chief or medicine man made little difference. Neither of them had bothered to ask any of the raiders their rank before cutting them down. But the exterior of the hut bore more decoration. Narthias ducked through the entrance to step into the gloomy interior. The pirate followed. Like with the other huts, baskets and pots were strewn around in an orderly clutter. A crude hammock bed was fashioned of bantha hide strung between two of the thick poles.

            "Damned idiotic nerf-herding sons of Hutts! They got away!" (1)

            Narthias had not expected such a violent explosion from the pirate. While it was true their search of huts and the empty farming buildings revealed nothing, the loss of temper was unwarranted. Suspecting the heat from their walk to be the culprit, the Chiss brought one hand up to extend his arm toward the armored form. A small arc of violet lightning leapt from his spread fingers to strike Andronikos' shoulder.

            "Snap out of it." (2)

            "Yeearrgh!" (3) the pirate cried as he jerked, body going rigid for a second or two as the mild jolt scrambled his nerves. Staggering, he panted harshly and turned his head to fix an unseen but clearly present glare on Narthias.

            "They were killed, and possibly eaten," he continued after waving toward a freshly bloodied stone slab to one side of the hut. The blood had to have come from something recently to stain the table so dark and Narthias could clearly sense the terror and agony clinging to the stone. "There's a difference." (4)

            Silence fell for several seconds.

            "Next time, just slap me in the face, okay?" Andronikos growled as he gave himself a harsh shake. "Damn crazy Sith. I just can't figure you." (5)

            A grin touched Narthias' lips as he chuckled. "That's the way I like it." (6)

            "Mysterious, huh?" the pirate asked. Even with his helmet on, there was no mistaking the way the words painted an image of the man's grin. He shrugged. "Okay. Suit yourself." (7)

            Turning his attention away from the butcher stone and the lingering sensations, the sith began to search through the pots and baskets. Soon, he uncovered what he was searching for.

            "And here it is. Finally," he said.

            There was definitely some power emanating from the artifact. It emitted a sickly green light like a venomous insect. Reaching out through the Force, he ran his awareness over it. Something pulsed and the light faded as the artifact went back into proper stasis. At least Zash had taught him one thing properly. He secured the artifact under his robes and rose. Dusting sand off his knees and hands, he turned to where Andronikos was standing near the entrance of the hut.

            "Now, are we gonna get off this rock or what?" (8)

            "The sooner, the better," (9) Narthias said as he secured the artifact opposite the holocron's position.

            Heat kissed the sith's bared face as he stepped back into the waning sunlight. Frowning, he scanned the encampment once more. While they were going from hut to hut he had spotted something. Turning to the wreckage of a caved-in dome, he reached out through the Force to send debris sliding away. In moments, a battered and sand-covered speeder was revealed. A quick check over revealed it was still in working condition. The intakes were sand-clogged but that was an easy fix.

            "You mind taking me along for the ride?" (10) Andronikos asked out of the blue.

            Looking up from where he was kneeling to replace the valves, Narthias tilted his head enough that the pirate could see the questioning look of the crimson eyes. "I'm a damn good pilot, and I've got contacts a Sith'll never make on his own. It'll be your show, no questions asked." (11)

            The Force truly did move in mysterious ways. While Narthias had been trying to figure out which strings to tug to manipulate the pirate into coming with him, here he was offering himself up on a gold platter. Completing the maintenance, he replaced the panel and stood up. Dusting some sand off his hands and armor, he turned to face the human. One hand rose as he pressed into the pirate's personal space. Andronikos shied back slightly but held his ground as the black-clad hand curled about his throat once more. His pulse leapt upward under the sith's thumb and finger but he kept breathing normally.

            "I'm in charge, and don't you dare forget it," (12) he said in a low, dark tone.

            Swallowing, Andronikos nodded shallowly. The action made the grip tighten even though Narthias did not move his hand. Reaching out, he brushed the pirate's surface emotions. What he picked up was rather confusing. A small kiss of fear, a spark of desire, comfort, anticipation...excitement? Over all was uncertainty. He relaxed his hold and withdrew his hand to turn away.

            "I'll take that as a 'yes' then," (13) the pirate said.

            Rolling one shoulder to shrug, Narthias pulled the speeder free of the last bit of debris and slid onto it. The engines sputtered several times but it finally came to life. Andronikos was swift to get into place behind the sith and secure a grip. It was not far to the outpost where they could report mission success and get back on the path to the spaceport.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Mos Ila was a little more lively than it had been when they departed. Of course the heavy battle droids still patrolled the streets but the vendors had taken up shop once more. The braver souls or those simply stir-crazy being confined in small spaces had also ventured out into the markets. Few were brave enough to sprawl in the shade of buildings or stairways for too long but it was a start. Imperial troops were more plentiful about various corners as well as at any entryway to the space port.

            The rental service was not entirely happy at losing one of their products, but accepted the replacement with some grace. It only took a seething glare from Narthias to make them amiable to the exchange. However, he had also been using the Force practically non-stop for over an entire day. While it had been aided by the holocron as well as the artifact, his body was simply not used to channeling such power for that extended period of time. His steps began to falter as they climbed the rise toward the spaceport's entry.

            Focusing on the power of the holocron, he pulled more from it, fixing a point in his mind as the end goal. He had to make it through the port to the ramp of his ship. Then he could give TwoVee the coordinates and let the droid handle their departure and journey. As his bones began to grow cold and brittle to his senses, his stomach stirred uneasily. Everything else fell away until he even forgot the pirate following close behind his left shoulder. Only when the heat was suddenly gone and the chill of the port's gloom shrouded him did his awareness snap back to the present.

            His world tilted toward the right. A hand caught his left arm. It almost jerked him off his feet. Stumbling, he shot a glare back--and saw Andronikos. Blinking, he remembered and turned the glare away. Once things had settled, he shrugged the helping hand off and straightened to continue forward. It was probably a good thing he had been pulled back even if his head was trying to jump into hyperspace without him. Just ahead, leaning against the wall beside the door to their berth, was a figure in Mandalorian armor.

            With all that had happened, Narthias had completely forgotten the bounty hunter and the deal he had made with her. Suddenly, his drifty head pounded with a not-so-long-forgotten headache. Temper short, he drew on the surge of strength it brought him. A deep breath and he came to a stop before the access door to look at her. He dredged up the name she had given him only after the bounty hunter straightened. It made her folded arms fall away from her armored chest as her hands came into easy range of the blasters resting loosely in the holsters at either hip.

            "Sith," she said.

            "Bounty hunter," he replied. "Was your hunt successful?"

            "One mark down. The other returned with you, as you well know."

            This was going to be a problem. He respected the Mandalorians for their valor, courage, and relentlessness. Unfortunately, she was going to stand between him and the pirate.

            "Yes, I know. But I'm afraid that I still have use for him."

            "Unfortunate," Kacela said. "I would rather not complicate things by killing a sith, so I will ask you to hand him over."

            Narthias calmly brushed his fingers along his lightsaber. It was not what he intended to use, but the gesture was a match to the way the bounty hunter's hands hovered so near her blasters.

            "That won't be necessary," came another voice.

            Narthias and Kacela both turned as Andronikos tensed slightly. A somewhat familiar figure was sitting on a pile of supplies waiting processing. The girl sat up and slid down to land easily on the ground.

            "The bounty on Andronikos Revel was listed by a member of the Exchange who has been recently...terminated. It was never officially authorized. No fee will be paid for the pirate," Casey Rix said with a pleasant smile on her lips.

            Kacela hesitated, clearly looking from one to another. Slowly, she moved one hand to her belt and pulled her holocom free. Turning slightly, she placed a call to her ship. In the meantime, Narthias was studying the confident young woman. The same woman that had apparently been important to Andronikos. He glanced to the pirate who was still tense with hands resting just an inch from his blasters, helmed gaze fixed on the bounty hunter.

            Casey was also watching the huntress with casual amusement. Narthias could still read the tension in her form despite her pose. The bounty hunter completed her communication and lowered her holocom to look at the three of them in a slow turn of her head.

            "Your story is confirmed. However, I will require a voucher stating the withdrawal of the bounty to turn in to the Huntmaster's assistants."

            A true grin crossed Casey's lips. She held out a datapad without hesitation. "I figured you might need it."

            Taking the device, Kacela scanned the information before nodding once and attaching it to her belt. Now that the tension had broken, Narthias locked his knees as his head began to spin and throb. Pushing the ailment aside, he narrowed his eyes to focus on the bounty hunter.

            "If you are satisfied, I have business elsewhere," he growled.

            Nodding, the huntress turned to move aside. "Lord Sith," she said before turning to depart.

            Once Kacela was gone, both men turned their attention to Casey. The young woman released a sharp breath and shook her head.

            "So, you beat Wilkes and made it outta the desert alive, huh," she said, dark eyes focused more on Andronikos than the sith. "Wilkes doesn't surprise me, but when I heard you were heading for the desert...well, I wasn't expecting to see either of you again." (14)

            Narthias snorted and folded his arms across his chest. "You seriously underestimate me." (15)

            Casey shrugged, spreading her hands in a placating gesture. "Wasn't meant as an insult. There's lots of stuff in that desert that can't be fought, and it's just as deadly." (16)

            When he simply rolled crimson eyes, Casey shrugged and walked toward them. Narthias pivoted to watch as she stopped facing them at arm's length.

            "That's also why I figured I'd better help out with the bounty hunter," she said before looking at Andronikos. "You're lucky. If I hadn't recognized you in that silly getup, I might not have helped the Sith out."

            Reaching up, Andronikos pulled the helmet off. Scrubbing at his face with one hand, he stared at the woman.

            "You knew it was me the whole time?"

            She shrugged. "Not the entire time. But, no one can walk with the same style as Andronikos Revel on a hunt. It gave you away. And I overheard Wilkes mention something about a bounty. Only took me a few hours to find the listing. Once you killed him, it was easy to cancel it. The Exchange told me when you two were spotted in town."

            Narthias shook his head--slowly--at that. He had been too focused on getting to his ship if he missed eyes on him like that. Muttering something under his breath, he folded his arms across his chest to glare at the two when they turned their heads to look at him.

            "Yes, thank you for taking care of the loose end," he said in a mocking tone.

            The pirate shifted a little uncertainly while the woman cleared her throat.

            "Anyway, I'm glad you came because it gives me a chance to thank you for taking out that runt Wilkes. With some real leadership, maybe the Exchange on Tatooine can move ahead for a change." (17)

            "Don't go expecting any more favors," (18) Narthias warned.

            "I don't plan on needing any," (19) Casey shot back. Her attention turned to Andronikos and her expression softened.

            Irritation flared at the same moment his head chose to spin again. He barely began to sway when an almost familiar hand caught hold of his shoulder to draw him upright. Swallowing hard, Narthias steeled himself and forced his stomach back down his throat where it belonged. Casey watched the entire thing intently. He caught a spark of jealousy from her mixed with sorrow and resignation. She forced herself to smile before taking one step backward from them.

            "Andronikos--I'm sorry," (20) she said.

            The pirate shrugged. "It's alright, huh. We wouldn't have worked out anyway. All that shouting and throwing stuff--somebody was bound to get hurt." (21)

            Feeling confused, Narthias remained quiet as he regained his equilibrium. The pirate's hand remained on his shoulder.

            "Heh. Right," Casey muttered as she shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. "Well, guess it's goodbye, then. Good luck out there." (22)

            She turned and departed with hurried strides. If he was not being torn in several directions at once while being exhausted on top of it, Narthias might have sworn she was fleeing from them. His attention went back to the man when the weight of his hand left his shoulder. Standing on his own, he turned to regard Andronikos.

            "What was that all about?" (23)

            "Nothing. Just...saying goodbye, is all. (24) There are some things a gal just won't understand. And some she shouldn't be told," Andronikos said.

            Narthias was silent for several more heartbeats. The emotions from the pirate were a chaotic mess despite his calm exterior. He even felt the fading hurt from the girl as she moved out of his immediate range. Apparently there was far more than he thought between the two. Pushing it away as he felt his body creak with complaint, he lowered his arms to his sides and moved through the bay doors.

            He could not help but feel both pleased and satisfied by the gasp from the pirate when his ship came into view. The Fury Class ships were hardly rare but he had spent a lot of credits from his old personal accounts to fix it up. The armor was thicker and held the slightest hints of blue against the black and charcoal metal. Both visible weapon turrets were state of the art and streamlined for maximum power and force. He paused to allow the man to take the ship in before motioning to the lowered ramp.

            "Murder and mayhem await!" (25)

            Andronikos broke into a dark, wicked grin that stole Narthias' breath away for a moment or two. For a human, the man was exceedingly attractive. Especially when he looked like that.

            "Heh. I get the feeling we're going to make a damn good team, you and me," he said as he pulled his helmet back on. "Now let's get off this rock, huh?" (26)

            That sounded as good as he thought it would. Crossing the bay with the pirate following, he felt as if the galaxy was finally relenting and letting some good come his way. It only lasted a few more steps. Long enough to climb the ramp and enter his access code. The door hissed open. Stepping across the threshold, it was as if a giant fist slammed into his back. Narthias crumpled as air raced from his lungs and his stomach lurched up his throat into his mouth. Agony lanced through his head and tore through his body.

            Only armored arms around his torso prevented him from crashing to the deck as his body seized in one great spasm after another. He barely registered TwoVee's worried inquiry and the rough gravel of Andronikos' voice. Another endless moment of agony and darkness rose to drag him down into the pits of oblivion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update took so long. Been a rough couple of months. I plan for the next chapter to be up sometime next week if all goes well! Not entirely happy with this one but it'll do. I'll come back to edit later.


	11. Cage of the Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of rape, nothing overly graphic but enough to possibly trigger. Also severe mind-fuck happening. This is from Andronikos' PoV in the way his thoughts spiral. Read carefully as with any unstable trail of thought, it has the tendency to bounce around.

            Four walls. Each spaced roughly five feet and seven inches apart. A floor and a ceiling both constructed at an angle. The ceiling was high over the door and slanted down to meet the back wall. The floor curved, becoming a subtle bowl that was high near the door and dipped down to cause uneven footing near the back wall. And that back wall was taken up by a metal slab barely over two feet deep. Hardly wide enough to be considered a bed but more than a shelf. It was the typical Imperial cell. And if not for the sand still falling from his clothes, Andronikos might have thought he never left.

            The cell was too small to offer anything beyond standing room only. But he was hot, tired, and even a metal shelf was better than trying to lay on the floor with that unseen curve. He had tried before and only wound up with a sore back, hips and cramping legs and shoulders. Plus, the shelf was slightly warmer than the floor. A tiny little comfort that meant nothing in the long run. But then again, what was the long run? He had been released from a cell much like this one months before and here he was back inside it.

            If not for the sand digging against his skin from his clothing, he would think the entire venture to be a dream. A long, twisted dream indulging most of his thirst for revenge. From the hunting of his crew to the drawn out demise of Wilkes. Granted, he doubted the primary figure in such a dream would have been a Sith. He knew very well just how they went about torture when they wanted information. What had been done to that pathetic little son-of-a-Hutt went beyond anything he had experienced however.

            And then there was the Sith. If it had been a dream, why did he make up a Chiss as the Sith avenging him? The only Sith he had ever seen were human. He had naturally heard of the ones referred to as "Purebloods" but he had never seen one. A Chiss was the least likely candidate to be portrayed as a Dark Lord. Or, apprentice, or whatever rank he had decided to take. Plus, there was the kiss. The kisses. Multiple. Plural. More than one. They seemed so unreal. All but one. Maybe they were just figments of his imagination.

            His fingers rose to press against his lips. It reaffirmed that touch was real. It gave him something to compare. Yeah, only one of those kisses felt real. That moment in the heat of battle. He could almost feel the hot blasts of breath against his skin an instant before the crush of mouths. It was like fire beneath his fingers, making his lips part at the sheer force of the memory. Taking a breath made his lips throb beneath the ghost of a hungry mouth attempting to devour him whole from the inside. Even with the slight sour aftertaste of illness, he felt that fire bleed into him--even through the cell walls.

            Catching his breath, Andronikos made his eyes open. He paused to try and remember when he had closed them. Time was not able to enter Imperial cells. Yet he felt his lips and mouth tingling with the want for more. How could he want more? Of course he was a pirate. He was not a good man. He murdered, ransacked, robbed, lied, cheated, stole and destroyed lives. Gender meant nothing when the need arose. Sure, he preferred a pretty face and curves like any man. But there were many forms of beautiful. And there were different sorts of curves.

            Unbidden, Wilkes came to mind. His fingers paused against his lips as he caught a breath. Sheer hatred rose within, choking him and burning the stark lighting from the panels from white to red. For a single moment of eternity, he was back on the _Sky Princess_ , pinned down to the deck beneath the weight of another. He felt the fist pulling his hair from his scalp, the cold plates of the deck against his face, the pain of his dislocated shoulder, his other arm straining where it was twisted up behind his back. And the pain with every slap of flesh on flesh as he was torn open again and again.

            It was the same memory that had broken him a year ago. The stench of Wilkes' breath, his grunting and laughter. Pain spread through his lower body so acutely he could not tell for a moment whether it was memory or still happening as blood slicked every thrust slamming his face harder into the deck.  A pain in his lower lip yanked him away as he gasped for air. Flicking his tongue across his lips he tasted blood where his fingernails had dug too hard into the flesh. He pulled his hand away to scrub over his head. His shaven head. It had been one of the first things he had done in the pod. Get rid of the short hair Wilkes had used to keep him under control.

            Wilkes. His skin still attempted to crawl at the mere thought of the man's name. Before his mind could fall back into the trap of that final moment of betrayal, he pulled that un-dreamlike memory back up. The way the Sith had grabbed his head. He should have fought at that moment. Years of piracy had taught him to read a man. There were always ways to tell what they would do. Always a give-away in their eyes. He knew how to read desire. And he knew the Sith had that hunger, the sort only satisfied with another man's ass.

            But instead of putting the Sith down, he had met the kiss. Andronikos shuddered as his body recalled the sensation of teeth clashing with teeth, of the tongue that thrust into his mouth regardless of his attempt to counter. He felt the same sting from his freshly cut lip as he had felt from the Sith's teeth as he fell into the maw of the beast and his body came alive with desire. And he wanted to feel those lips again. Dry or wet, the skin had been subtly different. Maybe it was a Chiss thing. Skin that felt svelte, richer than human skin, somehow flawless and impossibly exotic.

            Something else about that moment came to light. When their mouths had parted, the Sith had saved his life. In fact, he had saved him countless times. Not once had he made any indication he expected to be repaid. Granted, there were plenty of those looks he knew to be hungry, but on a level he had rarely ever encountered. For one, the Sith did not flirt. He looked but kept his desires restrained. There was something refined about him. Almost like his flavor. Behind the sour bite of bile, the Chiss had tasted much as he carried himself. Powerful, focused, self-assured.

            Powerful. But not always. Staring at the ceiling, he remembered the night spent in the outpost and the way that powerful, dangerous figure caught in the throes of chills. The armor had been difficult to remove with the start of the shivers but thankfully he had gotten it down to the mesh weave beneath before they became too serious. In the time it had taken him to shuck his own armor, the chills were as violent as spasms. In his arms, the shuddering form had been difficult to hold onto.

            Raw strength. It was what struck him the most about that night. The Chiss was powerful in every sense of the word. Lean, defined. His curves were hard and balanced by angles barely softened with that inhuman quality residing within his very skin. And he was intelligent. Andronikos had to admit while the Sith came up with crazy plans, they worked. Even the plans made on the fly. It was impressive--and a little unsettling. Or, it should have been unsettling. Every time something new came up, he found himself surprised and impressed, perhaps a little fearful.

            It was the thrill that came from those little moments of fear that really puzzled him. They were the sparks of adrenaline that came from a heist or hitting a target in the middle of a fight. He had never felt them with a hand around his throat or the threat of that kriffin' lightning at the tips of black-clad fingers. With the Sith, it seemed to be natural. And even if it was one of their Force tricks, it should not be working now, not here.

            Andronikos had seen the yellow-white pallor of the Sith's face when the Imps hauled the thrashing body off. He had been disarmed at blaster-point, stripped of his armor, and thrown in this very cell. Despite his wavering sanity, he doubted the Chiss would be able to maintain any manipulation of the Force in his state. It could not be a trick. But if it was not, it made him wonder about why he wanted that crash of lips and teeth against his. He wanted to feel that hand take him by the throat again and squeeze. He needed to look into those solid crimson eyes and see that restrained hunger again.

            Needed? Frowning, he turned his head to glower at the door. The cell was messing with his head. Why else would he want to place himself in such a position? Then again, he was back in this cell because he did it to himself. Signing on with the Sith, knowing it would put him back into the hands of Imperials. He could have just left the Chiss in port, thrashing in the throes of whatever he did to himself. The ship was there, access codes used, only a droid to stand between him and his freedom in the stars.

            So why had he caught the Sith when he stumbled and shouted orders to the droid to get them out of the place? He could have dragged the thrashing form back to the port and turned him over to medics. The droid had been chattering about a transmission from orbit and medics waiting for them. And he had gone along with it. No second thought. No time to think it through. He just went with it. He went with the Sith. It had gotten him back where he started from. What else had he to show for it?

            Why? Wilkes' face came back to mind. He tucked one arm under his head and closed his eyes even if he would rather not. That scum-sucking vermin was on his back ranting at them. The kid had never been the brightest in the bunch, but the artifact had ruined what intelligence he did have. And the Sith? That fancy blade of his had cut down dozens as easily as a vibro-blade through butter. Instead of cutting Wilkes down, the butt had slammed into his head. He had fallen, blabbering about the artifact, the mutiny, the money, his blasters, everything.

            There was a moment however that Wilkes had mocked him. And in the following moments, he saw something in the Sith's posture. The Chiss knew what had happened. He was sure of it. But nothing happened. No mockery. No using it to bring him to heel. Nothing. Nothing but the screams from Wilkes as the Sith barbequed him alive for information. And once they had it? That brief instant he was positive his vengeance would be denied as his arm was halted and that lethal blade moved in. Then the Sith surprised him yet again.

            Yes, the Sith knew what Wilkes had done. And rather than deny Andronikos his revenge, he had added to it. As a man, what had been done should have made him cringe. Watching a man have his cock and balls burned off inch by inch should have made his own try to crawl up inside him. Instead, he felt that fear burn away as well. By the time Wilkes was a blabbering, snotty, sputtering mess, he felt...satisfied. It was a mercy to shoot him through the brainpan. The thought of mercy for Wilkes did not make him hesitate either.

            What had the Sith said? Telling Wilkes nothing but the truth. The lecherous runt would die alone and forgotten. Only he would remember. But something in the words had given him the momentary impression that he would have help forgetting the bastard. It had left him confused and torn between that spark of anticipation or desire and his hatred and disgust. Still, the Sith had done nothing to push him into any sort of situation. Nothing. Even though the hunger yet burned in those eyes when he glimpsed them, nothing.

            Maybe that was why it did not make his skin crawl to hold the Sith through the night. Maybe it was also why the hand about his throat did not alarm him. Maybe it was why he caught the swaying Chiss to help him stand during the confrontation with the bounty hunter and Casey. Even then, he had picked up on that restrained hunger. It was easy for him to pick up on the predatory, possessive creature beneath the cool exterior. Yet, nothing.

            Sith or not, the Chiss had pushed his luck. The encounter with the Jedi, what little he picked up from it, was revealing in itself. His Sith was powerful in ways he had not even imagined. Not just able to call lightning from a clear sky or send it lancing out in a chain from one person to another, but to rip and sear a body limb from limb. And that moment when he felt that invisible thing grab him? Light burned his eyes through his helmet, air forced from his lungs, unable to get to the grenades. Then darkness was around him like a lover's arms, pulling him to the ground and pushing air into his lungs as it shielded his eyes.

            He regained his sight to see what the Sith did to the Jedi that had attacked him. While the words made no real sense, he knew vengeance when he saw it. And he felt no fear in watching his Sith reduce a Guardian of the Republic to nothing more than charred flesh and fried bone. It served to silence him when he approached the Chiss. He was almost surprised that the padawan was let go. And his obedience in following the orders he was given had nothing to do with fear. It was...understanding. The Jedi had been like Wilkes where the Sith was concerned.

            Andronikos found himself wondering if it would be so bad to be in such a position with his Sith. Wait, his Sith? No, THE Sith was badly ill. Whatever he had done to survive the toxic pit might even have killed him. He had no way to tell while locked up in the cell. If there was one thing that he had always hated, it was a missed opportunity. And now that he had time to think about it, he realized that was exactly what it was. He had a chance for something, something clearly desired but he had not taken up on the offer.

            Mouth against mouth. Teeth and lips crashing. The forceful thrust of the tongue invading. He remembered it so clearly he could almost smell the cool tang off-setting the odors of burnt flesh, ozone, and superheated sand. The hand on the back of his head, gripping firm but not forcing. Only in that moment did he realize he could have pulled away at any time and there would be no resistance. For all that Sith were supposed to be bloodthirsty, cruel, vicious creatures, his Sith was a mix of vicious intent and generous power.

            Wilkes against his back, rutting into him like a beast-- _lips and teeth clashing heatedly_ \--pain ripping through his insides to leave-- _burning pressure encircling his throat and squeezing just tight enough he relaxed_ \--only to feel hot liquid mix with his own blood inside his body-- _a cooling rush as air flowed into his lungs and the light was consumed in darkness revitalizing his body_. Blinking, he opened his eyes to stare upward as the memories clashed inside his head like dogfighters in orbit.

            So he had to wonder...what would it be like? What would it be like to have that lean, solid body he recalled so vividly thrashing against his own be against him? How would his Sith treat him? Blood and pain and terror like Wilkes? Or would he be...intense? Passionate? Fierce? Possessive? How would it feel to be on his knees at the feet of the Chiss the way he had collapsed to his knees in the desert when that rush of shadow revived him? Would that powerful grip bruise or be just tight enough?

            Catching a breath amidst short pants, Andronikos realized that despite the crawling skin from memories of Wilkes, he was hard in his pants just imagining how it might feel to be beneath his Sith. Again, his Sith? He did not even know the Chiss's name. Did the Imps even know how to help him? Would he even care about the pirate left to rot in a cell? Releasing a sigh, he shook his head and shifted to sit up on the shelf, dropping his feet to the floor and looking at the doorway.

            A door that suddenly slid open. Looking up in mild surprise, the pirate found himself regarding a figure in familiar black robes and armor. What halted the flicker of relief was the black mask beneath the hood. It was featureless save for strange rune-like designs carved over the face and two black rectangles over the area of the eyes. Even from the door, the sound of a mechanical breather unit hissed into the cell as lights blinked along the device attached to the side of the armored belt.

            This was a Sith, but it was not HIS Sith. He did not bother correcting his own thoughts this time. Part of him very belatedly remembered how even thoughts were not safe around Force-users. Slowly, he rose to stand as he tried to clear his thoughts the way that had made his interrogators so irritated. The Sith outside the doorway did nothing but stare for several moments. Finally, one gauntleted hand rose to give an arrogant gesture.

            "Come on, pirate," came the heavily modulated voice through the mask.

            Tensing despite himself, Andronikos felt his body freeze. Mechanical tone or not, he knew that voice and the way it delivered commands. But...the mask and breather? Just how long had he been in the cell anyhow? Not bothering to question, he found himself moving forward to climb out of the closet-sized room. The Sith had already turned to walk away and he had to hurry to catch up as the guards were left behind.

            Nothing more was said as the Sith led him through the carrier and into the docking bay. He was honestly not sure what he expected to find, so he was surprised to see the Fury class fighter waiting for them. It made sense that no one would have touched the ship belonging to the Sith, but he was still surprised for some reason. Following the black-clad form up the ramp, he waited for the access codes to unseal the door and stepped in behind his captor. A captor that re-sealed the door and turned to program something into the environmental settings.

            It became a little more difficult to breathe for a moment and the tang of something medicinal filled the air, settling at the back of his throat. Only then did the Sith reach up to unfasten the mask. Seals hissed as they parted and both mask and helm beneath the hood were removed. When the figured turned, Andronikos found his suspicions to be true. His Sith stared at him with eyes more orange than crimson. The visible skin was an ashen cobalt instead of vibrant blue. But it was still his Sith, whole and perhaps a little off-balance still, but looking absolutely wonderful to the pirate.

            "What did they do to you while I was in the kolto tank, Andronikos?" came a slightly wheezing yet still rich tone.

            "Not much, sith. Just stuck me in a cell and left me there," he answered as nonchalantly as possible.

            "Then why are you looking at me like I'm a Corellian Whiskey and you're just in from the desert?"

            Feeling his skin crawl as those memories of being split open and taken, Andronikos tried to moisten his mouth enough to swallow with a suddenly dry throat. Shifting, he shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. He tried to play it cool even as a little voice in the back of his mind reminded him of what he had been thinking about just moments ago.

            "I'd probably be looking at a Hutt the same way, so long as they got me outta that cell," he said.

            For a few moments, breathing a little shallowly, the Chiss simply stared at him. Just as he started to feel himself crumbling, the Sith nodded once and started to turn away. The voice in his head suddenly shouted out. Before he even realized he moved, Andronikos had crossed the distance between them to grab the edges of the black robe and pull the Sith toward him. This time it was he who initiated the kiss with a vicious clash of teeth and lips. A grunt came from his Sith as he staggered back against the wall.

            Then those gloved hands were on his hips, pulling him closer and those rich blue lips were parting beneath his. He was overwhelmed with the medicinal bite of kolto-breath and could care less. Again the thrust of that tongue finding his to force down, wrestling and claiming and ravishing. The pirate forgot the sensation of crawling skin, forgot the pain and blood, forgot the smell and feel of weight rutting him, forgot the face and name of Wilkes. Because beneath the taste of kolto and blood from his own lip was that cool, electric flavor that was his Sith's kiss.

            A hand pressed against his chest, pushing him backward. It forced him to break the kiss and gasp for a deep breath as he stared into eyes burning their familiar crimson once more. He was still pale, but no longer ashen. And as those kiss-bruised lips parted, Andronikos abandoned his fears, his reservations, his thoughts. That hand was around his throat and squeezing just firm enough to constrict his airway without choking. It was reassuring.

            "Are you certain, pirate?" came the unexpected question.

            "Hey," he said, shrugging. "You're no Wilkes. I don't really see the problem. So long as you don't think this makes me your slave or anything."

            There was a twitch to those firm lips, a hint of a smirk--no, a smile. "Narthias."

            Confusion crossed his features. "What?"

            "It's not Sith. It's Narthias. My name."

            "Narthias," he tried. "All right."

            Narthias nodded once as his thumb began to rub up and down the side of Andronikos' throat. Sighing, the pirate relaxed and just stared into the crimson eyes. A black-armored hand rose to grasp the hood and push it back. It was then that he realized he had not seen the Chiss without his hood up. Beautiful. The fully exposed face was a flawless blend of ageless youth and masculinity without being harsh. His hair was long and a shade of pale, icy blue that would put most planetary skies to shame. It was caught back behind his head and shoulders by two braids beginning at either temple and winding behind his head to weave together.

            "My cabin," came the command Andronikos both dreaded and anticipated. "My bed. Captain."

            Hearing that fall from those lips in that voice made him shudder and catch another breath. Already hard, it was almost all he could do to step back. Pulling free of the grip, he turned toward the door his Sith--Narthias--indicated. It was hard to tell if he was afraid or excited and it made his stomach tense and flip at the sheer recklessness of the moment. Then the door hissed shut and an armored arm wound about his waist to pull him back against a hard chest.

            "If it becomes too much for you, we will stop."

            In that moment, Andronikos knew he was in trouble...and he wouldn't trade it for all the stars in the galaxy.


	12. Head Games

            The pirate was trembling. He could feel it through the gloves and the armor upon his arms and chest, and he doubted that Andronikos was even aware of it. Reaching out through the Force, he touched the man's mind to find it a chaotic shambles. Emotions flew and twisted upon themselves in great knots tangled into a ball. Memory and delusion played against one another in a tumultuous storm of confusion. And despite the burning desire to claim that storm of desire, fear, anger, and passion, Narthias found himself holding back.

            He desired the pirate, true. What he desired was in that maelstrom. But he wanted it all as part of the pirate himself. Despite the fact he had only sat in an Imperial detention cell for a week, this was not the Andronikos he had been discovering upon Tatooine. This man was something else. He was caught too deep in the pit of his own madness to burn for him. It would likely not matter to any other bearing the title of Sith, but it mattered to Narthias.

            Instead of pushing, he held still. His hands lingered against the pirate's abdomen and his arms held him firmly. Patient despite his lust, he waited. Minutes passed. He closed his eyes to observe the storm roiling through the human. Every so often the trembling would become a shudder before fading back to minute quivers. Gradually, Andronikos came back to awareness and turned his head. Opening his own eyes, Narthias watched as those kaf-brown eyes focused and darted around to take in the cabin.

            "Sith?" came the rough question.

            Narthias tightened his hold when the man tried to turn around. Very little played over the dark features but he was able to pick up a glimpse of confusion and even worry. It did not make his grip loosen. Hot hands fell to his bracers, their temperature passing through the armor with apparent ease to warm the abnormally cool flesh beneath. Drawing a breath, he tilted his head to regard the human silently, expectantly. The puzzlement grew but it also served to draw the man further out of his mind.

            "Don't play games with me," came the irritated, slightly alarmed growl.

            "I'm not, pirate," he answered with voice stressing the last word.

            Andronikos frowned before realization sparked within his eyes. "Narthias," he growled.

            Only then did the Chiss loosen his embrace and let his hands fall to grip the man's hips when he turned to face him. They were of similar height in truth although there was perhaps two inches of difference between him and Andronikos. It required him to tilt his head forward slightly to meet those deep brown eyes.

            "That's better. I do not settle, Andronikos. If you want this, you will play by my rules."

            He earned a glare that merely made his own lips twitch with the want to smile. Before he could retort, Narthias brought one hand up to press a gloved finger to the parting lips.

            "This is not a game. When you are with me? You. Are. MINE. And I will have you aware of everything I do to you until I am satisfied you'll never forget my name."

             The whimper that came in response to his words should have ignited the fire of passion further. Instead, it struck him as wrong. Utterly wrong. Even as the pirate pressed against him, hips grinding just right against the armor over his arousal, it did not stoke the flame, it dampened it. And Narthias had always followed his instincts. Long before it was discovered the Force likely held sway over them, he trusted them. They were telling him this was wrong. So, he reached out through the Force as he pressed his lips to the side of the bared throat to keep the human distracted.

            What he found sparked disappointment as well as indignation. If he had not been holding the man in his arms with contact of skin to skin, he would have missed it. A thread. A single minute thread like a spider's web was reaching from Andronikos toward...the cargo hold. Going still, he fixed a glare toward his bed and took a moment to consider. He had the pirate in his grasp, desiring him, needing him, practically ready to throw himself at his feet...and it was because of that thrice-cursed artifact.

            Lifting his head, the Chiss took a deep breath. Even with the medicine in the air, he could smell the pirate. And as much as it would be proper for a Sith to take what was placed before him if it was what he desired, he pulled back. It was not what he wanted. Not this way. But he could feel the web snaring the man tighten even before hot arms tightened around him.

            "You need a shower, pirate. You have ten minutes," Narthias growled.

            Another shudder passed through Andronikos but he could take no pleasure from it. He would not take it. Withdrawing, his hands caught the rocking hips to push the man away and turn him toward the small fresher that was part of the cabin. Better to get him distracted now and quickly.

            "Get cleaned up," he made it an order.

            "Damn, kriffin' sith," the pirate growled and virtually stormed to the fresher.

            The instant the cubicle's door was closed, Narthias turned to leave his quarters. Irritation and anger built with every step. The artifact had been secured in the appropriate container by TwoVee, as he had instructed upon returning to the ship. Even before he opened the crate, he knew he would see it shimmering with that venomous light once more. Reaching in, he did not have to try very hard to unleash a burst of rage that sent arcs of energy outward. If he had not been taught what to expect, he might have jumped at the near-shriek that came from the willful thing when he zapped it.

            Growling, he made certain it was again inert before re-sealing the crate. The other artifacts he had gathered were still in stasis, thankfully. And the droid had done well to secure them separately within the crate. However, the thread remained. It meant he would have to resort to other means. With eight minutes to spare, he headed for the cockpit and slid into the captain's chair to open a comm. channel to the bridge of the cruiser. It took another four minutes to arrange for their departure.

            At the two minute mark, he had given TwoVee the coordinates and instructions to stay in the cockpit until they arrived. One minute had him back in his quarters with the used armor the Imperials had returned clean and repaired once he had come to and given the orders for the pirate's release. Narthias was drawing the hood of his robes back up over his head when the fresher door opened. He did have to steel himself when he saw the way the deep tan skin held a ruddy color from a very thorough scrubbing.

            Without waiting for the pirate to jump to conclusions about the armor on the bed, his hood up, and the clear lack of intention, the sith spoke up.

            "The artifact is still influencing you, pirate."

            Just as Andronikos opened his mouth to say something, the ship gave a surge of speed. It was familiar enough that the Chiss merely moved with it. The pirate swayed more visibly. Even artifact-addled, he knew what the kick and the change in engine noise signaled. Those beautiful kaf-colored eyes lost the deeper hues of arousal to narrow in suspicion.

            "We'll be on Dromund Kaas soon. Until then, you put that armor on and stay in it. The crew quarters are to your right outside this door, second on the left. Stay there. And don't argue. I'll take care of this."

            He wanted to hear the pirate protest. He wanted to hear the fire and fight in the man. He kept his focus on the chaotic mind. Instead, he heard, "Yes, my lord."

            Folding his arms across his chest, Narthias watched the pirate get into the armor piece by piece. Once suited up, there was a moment he detected a hint of that spark, a touch of fight. Then something passed through his mind. This time he felt it, caught the plucking of that thread from the artifact, observed the spark be smothered and die. Andonikos turned and left his quarters to head to the crew quarters. Closing the door behind him, Narthias turned to lean back against it. Rage flared without warning, burning blackly in the air around him as he spat every curse he could think of in multiple tongues.

            It wound down to leave him feeling drained, weak. Even after three days in a kolto tank, he was tired. Not bothering with his own armor, he just crossed to the bed and collapsed onto it. His hood fell forward to completely cover his face and he settled like that. Willing his lingering arousal away was futile. Instead, he forced himself to relax muscle by muscle until he could drift into meditation. That technique had been one he picked up very early on and still served him well. Narthias had no idea when he fell asleep.

            Andronikos did not sleep a wink.


	13. Kaas City Sojurn

           It was raining. Granted, it was Dromund Kaas, so rain was not that unusual. But after the bone-drying heat and utter dryness of Tatooine, it did come as a pleasant surprise and relief. Stepping outside the protective shield of the port entry, Narthias stopped and tilted his head back. The mask did not permit the cool droplets falling from above to caress his face. It was a mild disappointment. He loved rain. He loved storms. Neither of which he had the chance to experience until he was old enough to accompany his father on their ship to another world.

           And where the mask might have prevented the full sensation of droplets hitting his skin from taking place, he had something else. The Force rose to his simple, gentle plea. Sith or not, some things did not require an extreme emotion to tap into such things. It was merely a thread of that deep cold darkness within. And it filtered through the mask that had already become familiar in the short time it took to reach the planet. He closed his eyes as the sensation of rain striking the sleek surface of the device became rain upon his flesh.

           He lingered in the moment for a few seconds before releasing it. Drawing his head down, his eyes opened and he looked over the area. Dromund Kaas would never be home. Too many trees and beasts. Too warm. But it was a very nice place for him to return to at least. Narthias glanced back over his left shoulder. The pirate was watching him silently and all of his frustrated anger returned. He merely moved straight to the taxi service that would take them where he most needed to go and would truly rather avoid all together. The Sith Enclave, where Darth Zash waited.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

           The taxi service on Dromund Kaas offered both droid-piloted vehicles and self-piloted vehicles. Narthias chose the latter. As they approached Kaas City, he glanced toward the armored pirate in the passenger's seat to his right. The helmet was turned away but did not have enough elevation for the man behind it to be looking at anything in passing. Irritation again prickled at the sith as he looked back to the route he was taking. Kaas City was certainly large but only certain areas were publically accessible.

           Magnetic shielding prevented most of the rain from entering the city while more powerful deflector-style shields were in place to help the city weather stronger storms. The Imperial Citadel was something of a sight to behold. Surrounded in front and on both visible sides by a deadly plunge into mist-filled pits formed by the various deeper levels, it was meant to deter as much as isolate. There were three primary parts to the citadel but their destination was the Sith Sanctum in the middle of the triad of towers.

           Landing smoothly on the taxi pad, he took the crate of the artifacts gathered so far and left the vehicle to be tended by the droids. Andronikos followed. The pirate was all too silent. All too complacent. It was very tempting to give the artifact responsible another blast of lightning but they were nearly there. The guards standing at their posts at every corner watched them but made no move to halt or impede the two. Several apprentices and milling Sith glanced their way but kept to themselves.

           He was so preoccupied in his own thoughts that he did not realize he was headed to his master's old quarters. It was not until a hand fell onto his arm that he realized not only where he was but just who was near him. The dark weight of a powerful sith fell over his senses. Not quite freezing, he halted and turned his head to regard the one to stop him. While recognition caused him to relax, it was miniscule.

           "Lord Yenoa, my apologies."

           The human female was several inches shorter than him. Her hooded head barely came to Narthias's shoulder. Despite that, her aura radiated an electric calm that easily overwhelmed anyone not ready for it. At first it had also drown him. Even now the lethal edge to the chaos pricked and raked at his mind. He countered it by focusing on her features. It was merely another test. And after a moment of focus, the shadow drew away to reveal the ghostly pale skin and black veins of the still-youthful countenance beneath. Ash or charcoal formed mock tears over her cheeks as gold eyes burned into his through the mask.

           "The Dark Side swells within you," (1) came the soft voice. "It burns sudden and fierce. But, it does not burn for you. How curious."

           Bowing his head in respect, he remained still and silent as those burning eyes searched the breather's mask. While he hardly opened himself to the probing talons he felt caressing his shields and pressing upon his mind, he did not attempt to conceal anything further. In fact, after a momentary glance about the virtually empty chamber, he let that same thread of cool darkness rise. Using it, he pushed the slowly moving touch away from himself before allowing it to vanish beneath the smoldering irritation still present.

           "Ah," Yeona breathed as a smile touched her lips. "So my instruction has indeed sown quite the fruitful bounty."

           "It has served me better than I could have hoped, Lord Yeona," he replied.

           She chuckled at that. But the sound was not pleasant at all. "Shall I instruct you?" (2)

           Now Narthias hesitated. If it had been any other sith, he would never show that hint of weakness. But this woman in particular had helped him greatly before. And while he might be Darth Zash's apprentice, she had not been much of an instructor. Yeona at least served that very function--for those who could obtain her attention or interest. He had been fortunate enough to garner both. It had not come without some cost.

           "Perhaps, my lord," he finally said. Shifting his grasp upon the crate, he placed it upon the floor. As he straightened, he moved one hand. The locks clicked as the lid rose to reveal the artifacts to the woman. "One of these has influenced my...companion. While my master is adept at instruction on how to unlock and seal them, I...have my doubts as to whether she would know or care how to break their manipulations."

           Yeona sank down gracefully. Although she did go to one knee, there was no disillusion as to who was subservient to who. Reaching out, she found the very artifact without even glancing at the others. It actually flashed venomous green before she touched it. Narthias felt its reaction through Andronikos. The pirate actually shuddered behind him. Subtly, he moved one hand so shadow soothed the pirate's hitched breathing. The second shudder was from a very different reaction. All of which the woman picked up on.

           "I see," she said. "So, you seek to break the grasp of this artifact upon the pirate in your shadow. Why?"

           That took him aback. Blinking, he tilted his head and just stared at the kneeling woman for several moments. "I...do not understand, my lord."

           "Why do you wish it undone?" she asked as she rose. "I can sense your desire, apprentice. He is aware of it as well. The artifact chose to bind him to your will. Even if it were given to Zash, its influence would remain. He would be the perfect servant. Obedient. Loyal. Unquestioning. The perfect catamite to follow your every order and fulfill every desire."

           Despite his suspicion of where her question was leading, it took Narthias by surprise when his ire ignited. Forcing it back, he shook his head. Leather groaned as his fists clenched hard. Andronikos was pulling away, a chaos of anger warring with fear and the manipulations of the artifact's madness trying to beat them down. But part of that fear was directed toward Narthias. Belatedly, he realized he was seething with heated shadow and forced his emotions back.

           "Ah," Yeona said again, sounding pleased and intrigued. "I see it now. You desire not what the artifact would give you, but what he would. Free will is such a spicy temptation, is it not?"

           She bowed her head to study the artifact in her hands. While Narthias focused on breathing techniques and shoved the fires of volatile emotions back into the recesses of his mind, she began to nod.

           "I can help you in this, apprentice. But as always, my instruction comes at a price."

           "I expected nothing less, my lord," Narthias growled.

           Yeona ignored it as she turned her head to gaze toward the entryway. An acolyte and two Imperial guards appeared an instant later.

           "Secure the crate and make certain no one interrupts us," she commanded.

           The acolyte bowed immediately as the guards took up positions by the doorway. While Narthias was reluctant to simply leave the crate in the care of another sith, his desire to break the artifact's hold was greater. Plus, no one had yet risked displeasing Yeona. She was one of the strongest and most adept sith in the ways of the mind. Few could manage to truly grasp her instruction. He was one of the handful that had figured out how to use her teachings to heal rather than simply destroy.

           Andronikos hesitated as Narthias followed Yeona into her own chambers. Pausing in the doorway, the Chiss looked back to the pirate. When he remained where he was, the sith moved back toward him. One arm rose. A hand came to rest on an armored shoulder as he leaned in closer to the man.

           "I told you. My rules."

           "Catamite," was all the pirate said.

           Narthias pushed the man's fear away from him as he shook his head. "I'm not Wilkes, Andronikos. And I do not settle for hand-outs. If I am to have you, it will be you. Not whatever mindless aberration that 'damn rock' wants to turn you into."

           He let his arm fall back to his side. Turning, he resumed his path to the door of Yeona's chambers.

           "Besides, it's not fun if you just let me win. You're down by eleven kills."

           "It's twelve in my favor, sith," came the sudden snap from behind. "Kriff. Let's get this thing out of my head."

           Yeona was waiting for them when they finally stepped into her chambers. She was smiling from where she was kneeling on the thick cushion typically used for meditation. Two more were placed before her, beside one another. The artifact was on the floor between them.

           "Yes," she said simply as the two headed for the mats. "I sense you will go far." (3)

           Andronikos tried to get comfortable on the mat as Narthias more or less flowed into proper meditative form out of habit. The artifact pulsed once.

           "Let us begin..." Yeona said as the room was consumed by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for this taking so long! And being so short. Unfortunately, I am currently stuck on Satellite Net during my time at home. This past month, it has stopped loading the Ao3 site at all. So, the only time I can upload anything is from my tablet before or after work on the free wifi. My apologies in advance if this chapter's formatting is off or otherwise unusual. Hopefully only one more month--or less--before I'm back on DECENT INTERNET. SatNet is driving me insane.


	14. Rock Riddance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to go back and edit this chapter--sorry there is no actual update. But I've decided to write them and save to publish on a more even schedule. This chapter was good but felt off on their interaction. After revisiting the storyline in SWtOR, I decided this felt a LOT better.

           Training sessions always had ways of warping time. When the door to Yeona's chambers finally opened to release the occupants, time had slipped away. Shadow burned about the black armored apprentice who departed the chamber. In his wake was a slightly unsteady figure in rusty brown armor with head bowed. Andronikos was far more unsteady on his feet as he followed the sith but he managed to make his way. Narthias did not appear to have the same problem. He could not afford to show such weakness.

           Crossing to where the crate rested, he paused only long enough to regard the acolyte sitting before the terminal nearby. The two guards were still posted at the door. He glanced at the chronometer on the terminal as the acolyte turned to rise. A quick calculation revealed they had lost over eleven standard galactic hours. Perhaps it would indeed be a small price to pay. Zash might have been prompt to contact him when he reached his destinations in space, but she had always seemed far more relaxed about personal encounters.

           "You may return any time you have further questions about the technique, apprentice," came Yeona's calm tone from behind.

           Andronikos was rather swift to move out of the proverbial line of fire between the two sith as Narthias turned. Yeona was hardly the worse for wear. Then again, she had far more experience and use of the things she had shown him. He had only just begun.

           "You need not be concerned about your master taking you to task for being absent. She had a meeting to attend. Some important soiree for those who preen to fluff feathers, or ruffle them."

           Narthias bowed his head, then bowed forward. "Thank you for your time, Instructor Yeona. You have my gratitude."

           The woman merely smiled and turned away. "Keep my price in mind, apprentice. In time, all debts are owed."

           Straightening, Narthias took her words for the dismissal it was. Crossing the room, he paid the retreating acolyte no mind as he sank down to open the crate. Placing the artifact back into its proper spot, he made sure the others were untouched. Securing the container, he rose and turned toward the door. Andronikos followed him quickly. It was merely a matter of taking the proper turn to head for Zash's newer quarters.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

           Darth Zash's quarters were empty. Narthias gained entry with his personal code and placed the crate on one of the few available surfaces. In the short time that Zash had taken over Darth Skotia's chambers, she had managed to make quite the mess of the once-organized archives. Various artifacts and numerous datapads and ancient texts or tablets were stacked haphazardly over most flat surfaces able to hold them at easily accessible levels. In fact, some stacks were visibly threatening to topple if one dared even draw near.

           Relieved at his master's absence, Narthias left the crate on the counter and turned to look over the mess. Andronikos had wisely stayed near the door to the archive room. Even with his own training and abilities, the Chiss was hard-pressed to avoid toppling anything to the floor. Moving one hand, he shooed the pirate out and closed the door behind them. Instead, he led the man to a different door. It was a small but comfortable sitting room. Here too were signs of Zash's clutter but far more controlled.

           Narthias moved a holocron off a chair. Sinking down, he finally allowed himself to relax as much as the confines of his armor would permit. He followed the audible shuffling as the pirate found his own seat. Quiet embraced them for a time. It felt so good to just relax and let his ultimately drained mind and body have a chance to recover from Yeona's instruction. And although he was tempted to begin turning over what he had learned from delving into Andronikos' mind, it was not the place.

           "Just why am I here, sith?" the pirate's unfiltered voice broke the quiet.

           Lifting his head, Narthias turned it to regard the pirate. The helmet had been removed and placed aside along with the blasters. Weary eyes the color of dull earth rested on him. It was difficult to tell for certain through the lenses of the breather mask, but he thought perhaps the pirate's cheeks were a little damp. Not that it would be too surprising if the man had broken into tears. The stress of having his mind turned over and sifted through to find just where the artifact had formed its initial grasp had hardly been gentle.

           "You asked to come," he replied.

           Andronikos shook his head. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his thighs. One hand rose to scrub at his face.

           "Not what I meant," he growled.

           "You'll have to specify. Right now, I don't have the energy to play at guessing games," Narthias said.

           "What's the story, Sith?" he finally got out. "Seems like you know all about me and I don't know nothing about you." (1)

           That made sense. Andronikos had been aware the entire time he was tromping through his head after all. It was impossible to prevent the man from feeling everything since Narthias had no clue just what he was doing beyond the instructions. Even if he had attempted finesse, it probably had not helped that much.

           "You always a sicko or did you just kind of fall into it, like I did?" (2)

           He raised one brow. Only after a moment did he remember the breather concealed such expression. Where it was handy in a fight, it provided an annoyance in a conversation.

           "Some Imperial thought it would be funny to shoot my kind for sport," he said with a shrug. "I shot back. They wanted to kill me but made me Sith instead." (3)

           A dry, humorless chuckle came from the pirate.

           "Funny how those Sith work," he muttered. Leaning back a little, Andronikos looked away. "I was an accountant on Moneylend when I decided I wanted a little more adventure." (4)

           Reaching over, he pulled one of the blasters from the holster near his discarded helmet. Turning it over in his hands, he just studied the weapon as his elbows returned to his thighs.

           "So, I put a blaster to the head of the InterGalactic Banking Clan and walked off with a few million credits. Been robbing and murdering ever since." (5)

           It was...not entirely true. He sensed it. Again came the temptation to sort through what he had gathered from the pirate's memories. Again, he chose to ignore it. They both had their share of secrets. While he might have uncovered more than Andronikos wanted, he also had the power to treat what he gleaned with decency. Especially if he truly wanted to win the pirate over without external help.

           "Hm," Narthias finally responded. "How much of that story is true?" (6)

           Andronikos narrowed his eyes as if offended as he shrugged.

           "Does it matter?" he asked gruffly. "In three years, the _Sky Princess_ took more cargo and harassed more Republic ships than half the Imperial Fleet." (7)

           That cocky pride was back. So was that slightly off-side smirk the pirate had shown a couple of times on Tatooine. "I'm a liar, and a thief, and a murderer. But I'm good." (8)

           Narthias considered the pirate almost as intensely as he was being considered in turn. He also ran some calculations through his head. It would not be impossible for the pirate to do what he said given Imperials were rather poor at stealing. Pushing himself up a little straighter, he leaned back in his chair and relaxed. "Just don't put a blaster to my head." (9)

           He was rewarded by a full-on smirk.

           "Don't worry, Sith. I got a good survival instinct." (10)

           "Well then, that's the answer to your question."

           "Huh. Guess you've got a point," Andronikos admitted. "Take it easy for a bit. As much as my head's trying to kill me, you're still recovering. I'll make sure to wake you if anyone comes in."

           The offer was tempting. Narthias considered it intently. Even if he should not place such trust in someone within the domain of other Sith, he felt a little bit of warmth. It had been a long time since someone else looked out for him. The choice was taken out of his hands by his own body. Despite his concerns, Narthias dozed off mid-consideration. Andronikos slowly leaned back in his own chair and pulled the other blaster over onto his lap. Guard duty was hardly alien to him. Even if this time it was guarding a kriffin' Sith.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

           Something nudged him. A weight on his shoulder. He thought he heard something. Waking slowly, he shifted. The weight increased. It shook him. For some reason he was hot. Just as he became aware of that sensation, the sound he heard registered.

           "Hey, Sith. Narthias."

           Awareness snapped back so suddenly it left him feeling like his ears were ringing. Or perhaps his entire body was. Eyes opening, he blinked until the shadowed figure came into focus. The pirate was withdrawing and turning away. The weight on his shoulder left. Then he remembered where he was. And it was not a place to be caught sleeping with guard down. While his body felt leaden, he still managed to make it stir. Once he began to move, it reluctantly woke up and obeyed.

           The touch of a powerful, oily presence provided a sudden chill that brought his body into complete obedience. Rising, he turned far more smoothly than he thought he would. Darth Zash stepped through the door an instant later. Her smile was as radiant and genuine as always, transforming her features into the perfect mask of beauty. In truth, she was a stunning woman with her honey-gold hair, red lips and intense brown eyes with only the smallest hint of crimson flecks in the iris.

           "Apprentice!" she exclaimed. "You have recovered the artifact I take it?" (11)

           Narthias bowed his head. "Of course, master. I placed it in the archive room awaiting your return."

           Her smile grew all the more pleased as she brought her hands up to clap before her. "Wonderful." Then her gaze shifted past his shoulder. "Ah, Andronikos. What a pleasure to see you again," she practically purred. (12)

           "Hello yourself," came the rough voice. (13)

           Something seemed to occur to the sith however as she looked back to Narthias. Her smile vanished as a frown took its place. Moving forward, she reached out to cup the metal cheek of the breather mask. He stayed still, suddenly glad for the lack of sensitivity as the touch did not feel all that invasive.

           "I had been informed of your surgery, apprentice. They failed to mention it required additional...accoutrements. Were there complications?"

           "No, master. There is some weakness in my lungs from fluid retention. They said this is only temporary. Once my lungs have finished healing, I can dispose of it."

           The frown darkened further before it was just as smoothly replaced by another smile. But something in her eyes made him wonder. It was brief, not even an instant's glimpse. Had he not been overly sensitive and clearly aware of how excellent her manipulations were, he might have believed it his own imagination. But that glimpse of relief made him wonder. And worry. Her constant attentions and touches were bad enough, if she truly did desire him in that fashion...

           "Excuse me for one moment. I want to see the treasures you obtained for myself."

           Narthias merely bowed his head again as the woman turned to practically glide toward the archive room. Testing his balance, the Chiss moved around the chair to follow once his master had a decent leeway. A clack or two behind told him the pirate was following after grabbing his gear. Both stayed just inside the entryway of the chamber rather than venture into the cluttered maze again.

           Zash had already opened the crate and removed the very artifact that had been so troublesome for the two. She was turning it back and forth to study the markings, tracing gloved fingers over the runes.

           "Looks like you finally found your rock," Andronikos said with dry amusement for her actions. (14)

           "Yes," she said, lowering the object. "Thank you for leading us to it, so obligingly." (15) The artifact was placed back into the crate as she ran one hand over the others in their cushioned sections.

           Narthias was not entirely certain which of them had a spark of irritation ignite at her casual commentary. He chose to ignore it in favor of keeping his focus on his master. Zash left the crate to slide around the table and approach them. Something in her smile was making him feel uneasy. Bracing himself to endure more undesired personal attention, he was torn between relief and mild alarm when she stopped before them--and focused on Andronikos. He felt the rise of power from her through the Force.

           One of her hands moved to cup the pirate's cheek. Her smile actually warmed as she touched him. Andronikos flinched and pulled back. It was Narthias's turn to feel that alarm when the pirate took a small step to place him between them. While part of him was pleased the pirate chose to hide behind him, tension gripped hold. Few dared refuse Zash's little gestures of "affection" without some form of consequence. He had learned that very quickly first hand. But he was more surprised when her smile grew all the more pleased.   

           "I'm sure you'll be a wonderful asset to my apprentice's crew." (16)

           There was no time to wonder at the strange exchange before he fell under Zash's full attention once more.

           "Now, apprentice," she said as she turned back to the cluttered room to head for the table. "You must hurry and recover the remaining artifact." (17)

           "I'm giddy with anticipation," he answered sarcastically. (18)

           Zash turned back to him, eyes flashing crimson briefly. He knew he was treading a thin line in that very moment. Whatever she had gathered in that strange moment between the three of them must have placed her in a good mood however. No retaliation for his sharp tongue came. She merely handed him a datapad.

           "I look forward to seeing you in your glory," (19) was the puzzling response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan to publish another chapter so soon. But SatNet allowed Ao3 to load so I figured I'd better take advantage. It's longer than I planned but I'm in no way going to look my muse in the mouth.
> 
> Please, if you enjoyed or are following this story, let me know. Commentary helps the muse a lot!


	15. Dromund Departure

           The Fury class fighter was completely refueled and restocked. Regardless, Narthias took his time in taking a full inventory while TwoVee made notes as to just what items had been used most frequently. Despite the month or so that he had the ship, he had not yet obtained a decent idea of what his personal usage of materials was while aboard. A few supplies the Imperials regularly stocked were superfluous. He had TwoVee move them to a separate corner of the cargo hold for use later.

           As he entered the cockpit, he found Andronikos going through the system checks. Standing just inside the hatch, he watched the pirate work. It struck him that the ship was probably about as new to the man as the inventory was unknown to the sith. And while the droid could fly the ship, something told Narthias that it was not really the first time the pirate had been at the helm. Then again, someone had to have flown them to the transport when the serum finally brought him down.

           Moving into the cockpit, Narthias sank down at the con and began the preflight checks. The pirate glanced up. Once he saw it was not the droid, Andronikos nodded once and turned back to his own task. They worked quietly but swiftly.

           "You know," the pirate said in a relaxed drawl. "You got a pretty nice ship. It's no _Sky Princess_ but what is?" (1)

           Narthias finished the check on the scanners before lifting his head to look toward the human.

           "I had a ship like it once," Andronikos continued as he sank down into the pilot's chair. "No armor to speak of, but you don't need defense when you can maneuver like that." (2)

           There was a subtle difference in the man's posture. He slouched back in the chair and stared out the viewport. While the lenses in the mask tinted colors, Narthias could tell his eyes were an intense golden brown once more. A faint, crooked curve rested on dark lips. It made the rough surface all the more appealing. He found himself sinking into the co-pilot's seat and just watching that almost warm, softer visage.

           "You're cute when you reminisce," the sith finally said. (3)

           It brought Andronikos back to the present. Blinking, he shifted to sit up as he shook his thoughts away and got back to work with a scowl.

           "Well, don't expect me to get all nostalgic," he said too late to give it weight. "That ship's space junk now. But it was a thrill while it lasted." A more familiar smirk touched his lips as he took down another note on the numbers. "Nothing like playing chicken with a ship twice your size and then firing up his tail when he blinks. The _Sky Princess_ was great, but she couldn't do that." (4)

           "So, why did you move on to the _Sky Princess_?" Narthias asked with genuine curiosity. (5)

           "Nice as a little ship like that is, you can't carry enough cargo, and you burn too much fuel jumping to hyperspace." Pausing, he finished recording numbers and put the stylus and note pad away. "A pirate's got to make a living, and he's got to be able to escape when the pressure's on. But this ship here?" (6)

           Andronikos rose to begin the prelaunch sequences. His hands lingered, moving in wandering touches over switches and buttons that were reserved for a longing lover.

           "Best of both worlds. She'll fly like a dream and then she'll jump away." (7)

           Very slowly, Narthias rose. Turning away, he moved to the captain's chair. Climbing the single step up to the seat, he rested one hand on the back. Andronikos's attention fell upon him.

           "If you're half as good as you say you are..." (8)

           That brought a snort. "In my line of work, you don't live long exaggerating." (9)

           Narthias nodded once as his hand shifted to grip the chair's head support. Turning it slowly, he moved to sit down and lean back. One hand rose to gesture to the pirate and the chair he had just been sitting in.

           "I'd be glad to have you as a pilot, Andronikos," he said. "Would you like to fly the ship?" (10)

           There were several moments where the pirate stood there as if uncertain how serious the sith was or if the offer was genuine. Reaching up, Narthias unfastened the mask and lowered it. The ship's air was only slightly sharper to his lungs when he took a breath. Without the mask, he could feel the atmosphere cooling his face. He met the man's gaze steadily a moment later. Nodding once, he motioned to the controls. The reward was Andronikos breaking into a grin.

           "Hey, how do you Sith say it? 'My Lord, it would be an honor.' " (11)

           He brought one hand up to press to his chest and bowed forward. Those intense brown eyes never left Narthias's own, nor did the grin fade. It served to alleviate the moment of trepidation the sith had about the gesture's true nature. The artifact was definitely not in control of this. It was his choice.

           "You just tell me where you want to go." (12)

           Nodding, Narthias allowed a small smile to touch his own lips. "Alderaan. That is where the next artifact I'm ordered to retrieve resides. However, we will go by way of Nar Shaddaa. I have some business there."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

           The streets of Nar Shaddaa were pretty much normal. As filthy and dangerous as ever. Gangs rose and fell in an endless line. Some lasted longer than others. The only gang that was of any real concern in this sector was the Krayt Gang. However, the members prowling the cluttered streets seemed inclined to keep their ambitions in check. Especially after some of the filthy and ragged masses recognized Narthias in spite of the mask he wore. The name for him on the street kept even the gangs at bay.

           "So, the Great Healer, huh?" Andronikos asked as they left the tunnel to walk out into a brighter-lit thoroughfare.

           Shrugging, the Chiss turned his head to scan the area before making his way around the common areas sunk lower into the floor. Various dancers and partiers were oblivious to the danger around them as they enjoyed themselves before some no-name band. Then again, the Hutt Security Forces were thick in this area with eyes on everything. If any gang members did come into the open here, they would have to be on their best behavior. Or have deep pockets with which to bribe.

           "It was a choice between curing a plague called The Rot, or wiping out the Krayt Gang. Since I was already basically killing people every time I turned a corner, I decided to try something different. And it gave me a chance to practice my skill at healing."

           "That shadow stuff you do?"

           A nod and he paused to let a limping cyborg pass in front of them.

           "You felt the benefit of my unorthodox choice. I haven't mastered it fully. Yet. But I will soon enough."

           The pirate nodded once. Narthias moved forward, adjusting his pace as the cyborg made her way into the very building he was heading for. Perhaps he was feeling generous, or maybe his upbringing still had more hold on him than the Sith. He gave her time and space to make her own way through the hall and around the corner. Once she had hobbled into the large room beyond, he resumed his own pace.

           Murmurs began to rise from all over the common area. Then again, the Strell House had been a sanctuary and refuge before. Being controlled by other hands had not changed it. In fact, aside from some lingering traces of what could only be Destrus's harsher meddling, it was the same. Oh, there were more beds and pallets laid out for those who visited to rest safely upon as they were treated or as they ate, but nothing unusual.

           In fact, as they approached the rear section, two humans appeared with harried steps. Well, the female was harried. The dirty male appeared to be dragged by the woman.

           "My Lord!" she called in a bright voice.

           Narthias came to a stop as they neared and folded his arms across his chest. "Rylee," he greeted her. "Destrus."

           Rylee came to a stop and offered a deep bow and pleasant if shy smile. Her companion grunted in response. An elbow to his side made him give a very reluctant bow as well.

           "Lord Sith," he grumbled.

           "We're so pleased you could visit us!" Rylee chimed in. "Have you come to see our progress?"

           For a moment, the sith was silent as he considered. "In part."

           Destrus visibly bristled.

           "Hey, I did what you said. I backed off. Let that power get to my head. But my girl here set me straight. We haven't done nothin' you didn't approve!"

           "And I never said you did," Narthias replied. "Relax, Destrus. I'm not here to check up on you. At least, not entirely. While I intend to see just how large my following has grown, I am here on other business."

           "Oh. Of course, my lord. If...you'd prefer, in private?" Rylee asked uncertainly.

           Narthias nodded. "I would. It will take some time." He gestured for them to lead the way.

           As the two turned to move deeper into the building, Narthias turned to regard the pirate.

           "If you prefer, you can find something more entertaining. This will likely be rather boring for you and the main casino in this sector is only a platform away. Those credits from Tatooine must be burning a hole in your pocket by now."

           Andronikos shook his head.

           "Nah. Never was too much into gambling at a table."

           "Suit yourself. You can probably help me with the paperwork."

           The pirate hesitated.

           "Y'know, I think I heard the ship's engine making a strange noise earlier. Mind if I check it out?" (13)

           Narthias paused and looked back over one shoulder.

           "Do you think it's a serious problem?" (14)

           He shrugged. "Won't know until I look. Probably just space dust, but gotta be sure." (15)

           Andronikos glanced around but none of the transients in the room were paying them much of any mind where they were at.

           "I'm no expert, but a buddy of mine back before the war taught me most of what I know. Carl Norn. Best technician I knew. Worst cardplayer." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Could never see when the deck was stacked against him, and it always was." (16)

           "Was this one of your pirate friends?" (17) Narthias asked.

           "My old man ran a shop on one of those planets people only visit if they break down or they're running from something. Carl stumbled in on a tin can held together by sheer willpower and the skills of the best mechanic in the galaxy. Made me first mate after the war. On a ship called the _Bloodshot Rancor_. I learned a lot before he gambled the ship away." (18)

           Even though both of them had their faces concealed, Narthias picked up on brushes of that same nostalgic feeling he had felt in the cockpit of the ship. And the pirate seemed to realize it as well since he gave a careless shrug.

           "But you're sick of hearing me jabber, huh." (19)

           The sith tilted his own head. "Not really. But I do have business to attend to. And, I can see why you might have a distaste for gambling."

           "I guess you could say that," Andronikos said.

           Turning away, Narthias resumed his way after the two humans. He raised his voice just enough to be heard over his shoulder.

           "You have my comm link if you need."

           "Sure thing, sith."

 


	16. Expect the Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for such a long wait! The holiday season always hits me hard at work as well as emotionally and mentally. That on top of catching at least 3 different flu and cold bugs, stress from my father's deteriorating condition and my mother's failing mental abilities...it's been bad. And I had no inspiration and no energy to write. It made this chapter hard to get past. And it surprised me by going a completely different direction than what I'd wanted. However, I see this as good. Hopefully I can resume posting chapters properly spaced. I cannot make promises though.

            Several hours had passed before there was an interruption. At least, an interruption where business was concerned. He had hoped to avoid any meetings during his stay. The general populace seemed to have other plans. One lone Chiss could hardly stand a chance against an entire planet--or moon in this case--Sith or no. It was in what might have amounted to the middle of a negotiation attempt with a couple of gang thugs when the Force came to him. Nothing alarming, but a twinge of warning. Warning, or anticipation.

            While the more verbose of the thugs continued on his attempted sales pitch about protection for a fee, Narthias slowly turned his head toward the doorway. There was no noticeable disturbance audible from the common room beyond. Something was still coming. Very subtly, he let his hand slide higher up his thigh nearer to his lightsaber. A simple flick of the Force released the clip so it hung loosely from his belt and ready for use. No one else seemed to notice.

            Then, the air in the room changed. Another pair of humanoids came through the door. Tension clung to them like a Sith's robes, and strained the air that preceded them. Beside him, Rylee went rigid in her battered chair. Destrus almost jumped and predictably grabbed for his blaster. His holster was still snapped. Both thugs went quiet save for the creak of leather as the less-chatty of the two drew one of his vibro-blades. It appeared the only one who was not taken by surprise was the Sith seated calmly behind the scorched table.

            It was not really surprise he felt when the first interloper came into his line of view. Rather, he stifled a groan before his eyes narrowed behind the lenses of the breather mask. He had not expected to see that particular green armor again after Tatooine. What made his eyes narrow however was the figure following her. Kacela entered the room as one would expect a predator to. Every stride was silent, strong, filled with intent and control. Her companion however actually stumbled over some invisible something.

            He was a slim figure that was slightly more lanky than defined. At a glance he was human with lightly tanned skin and silver hair trimmed short about his head. In place of eyes however were cybernetic implants with glowing red bars mimicking eye-slits. Given the rather clumsy entrance, he might have been thought to be one of the common folk trying to stop the bounty hunter's progress if not for the crisp white and gold uniform of an Imperial officer. No rank was visible despite the gold braid upon the chest.

            "Bounty hunter," Narthias said.

            Curiously, her response was nonverbal. Instead of any acknowledgement, she brought her arms up. Both blasters were in hand and taking aim before he could blink. Rylee did the smart thing and dropped under the minimal cover of the table. Destrus barely managed to spit a curse as the hunter snapped off two shots. His dive for cover was belated as he yanked futilely on his own holstered blaster. Even Narthias was tensed with dark electricity crackling about his visible hand where his arm rested atop the table.

            None of them had to worry however. Each shot took its target directly to the head. The two gang thugs crumpled to the floor. Narthias made his concealed hand release his lightsaber and return to its place upon his thigh. From Kacela's stance and the fact both blasters slid back into their holsters at her hips, she had accomplished some sort of goal for her intrusion. It did not mean he was going to just brush it off. Even if the thugs would have wound up dead by the end of the meeting anyhow, it would have been by his own hand.

            "To what do I owe the pleasure of your interruption this time?" he asked calmly.

            Kacela had turned her head to look at him. The Imperial--if that truly was what it appeared--moved behind her to approach the corpses. Paying him only a glance to watch him drop to one knee and begin searching the bodies, Narthias held his focus on the Mandalorian.

            "A job," came that modulated tone again.

            "If this is about the pirate again..." he trailed off.

            Reaching for her belt, she unfastened a holocom and held it up. Pressing the activation button, she switched the device off hold to bring up a live image. The being was shrouded in a hooded robe. Even when the hunter spoke to the person in Mando'a, Narthias had a pretty good idea just what might be coming. And it left a bad taste in the back of his throat that had nothing to do with his recent illness.

            _"Lenedat naastar. Darjetii gar saya cuyir srava'ya,"_ Kacela said. *

            "Good," came the grainy, feminine voice from the image.

            The quality of holos gave little by way of detail, but no one could really pull off the air of menace and darkness a true Sith exuded across the span of space. It kept him on his guard as he waited quietly to hear just what this person had to say. The hooded head rose as Kacela turned the holocom toward him. He could make out a glimpse of the sith's lower face. Despite his simmering ire, he had to admit that her jaw line and lips were quite attractive in their shape and form.

            "I am Darth Cuyan. I have need of an inquisitor immediately, and you seem to have the misfortune of being the only one currently accessible upon Nar Shaddaa."

            Irritation briefly warred with anger. Narthias managed to keep both in a tight grasp. A Darth outranked him by a lot. And Lord or no, Zash would have to answer to this one as well. However, he turned his head to regard the corpses. The Imperial cyborg had finished whatever search he was conducting and had two spherical devices in his hands. Both were inert but he recognized the detonators for what they were.

            "And this is why you sent your akk dogs to kill in my domain?" he asked as he began to piece the picture together.

            The figure's posture shifted a little but there was no outright aggression in the pose.

            "The two vermin you were speaking with were the minions of a threat you happened to overlook when you took control of Paladius's cult. He had an apprentice."

            Narthias released a sigh. "Of course he did."

            "Indeed. This apprentice has been working over the past few months to create her own little cult. Primarily riff-raff and street thugs from gangs. While she has been unsuccessful in undermining your power-base, she has gathered enough strength that she will strike at you very soon."

            "And you chose to intervene in this matter..." he was back to looking to the hologram as the cyborg moved around to rejoin the hunter at her back.

            "A favor for a favor, of course. My--what did you say? akk dogs--require the personal skills of a sith inquisitor on their current assignment. I did not believe you would take kindly to simply being ordered."

            Jaw clenching, Narthias only released another sigh and shook his head. The breather mask was annoying at times but was truly making up for the inconvenience in concealing his expressions at that moment.

            "As you wish, my lord," he finally said.

            Darth Cuyan brought her hands up. They were bare and revealed elegant fingers and slim hands and wrists. Clasping them before her, she grinned. It made something in Narthias's chest twinge as if it...was familiar. He did not attempt to grasp the flicker of some forgotten memory however. The moment was too tense.

            "Excellent. My agent will brief you on the mission. When it is over, you have my word that your little nuisance will be adequately dealt with."

            Narthias had barely given a nod when the Darth's image turned to look over her shoulder, even if unlikely she would see the bounty hunter. Surprisingly, the sith spoke in Mando'a.

            _"Ja'hailir kaysh gebi, oya'karir. A narir va rala kaysh gebi_ Mako _."_  *

            Kacela nodded once. _"Motir teg."_  *

            The holo flickered and vanished. Kacela returned the holocom to her belt and turned her head to regard Narthias. Rather, she was regarding both Rylee and Destrus as they slowly rose from the floor at last. Apparently the lack of outbursts or blaster fire had restored their minimal courage enough they felt it was prudent to move. It was courage nearly lost again when Narthias rose suddenly enough to make the crude chair groan as the force shoved it backward over the floor. Rylee squeaked and Destrus jumped.

            "Let's get this over with," he said.

            The bounty hunter merely turned to leave with the cyborg backing up to give her larger form room before he followed swiftly. Paying Rylee a glance, Narthias turned to follow the two.

            "Clean this place up. This will not take long."

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            While Narthias did not necessarily believe in spacer superstition about jinxes, he did have to admit he should mind his casual commentary in the future. Granted, having a sith accompanying them did seem to help cut through a lot of Imperial red tape. But the process of gaining access to a prisoner--when it was apparently supposed to be a covert op--in their secure facility still took hours of talking, comm channel transfers, and paperwork. One thing he had learned early on was that Imperials loved their triplicates and quadruplicates.

            After about four hours, they finally gained access to the prisoner. That entailed him standing in the hallway outside the cell with Kacela. She at least had the benefit of being patched into the agent's implants so she could hear what was going on. He remained quiet so she could concentrate. The meeting was short. About fifteen minutes and the cyborg returned. From the sound of the brief conversation between the two, the prisoner was a former agent himself. It seemed they needed to run an errand for him to cooperate.

            Since it was apparently not his business, Narthias saw no reason to go with them. Nor did the pair seem to want his company. Apparently this prisoner claimed to still possess the ability to access surveillance systems. It left him with time on his hands and nothing to do. Well, almost nothing. He made use of a random office to draw his holocom out and contact his ship to see how the pirate was coming along with the maintenance he elected to do. Unfortunately, it was not the human who answered.

            "Yes, sir?" TwoVee's visage inquired.

            Frowning behind the mask, Narthias considered.

            "Where is the pirate?"

            "He departed the ship approximately one hour and ten minutes ago after receiving a transmission. He did leave a message that he would probably return."

            Narthias considered that and worked through the sudden inferno of shifting emotion. Primarily the sudden urge to hunt the pirate down and drag him back personally. Shaking his head, he pushed those urges down hard.

            "Did he check the engines?" he asked instead.

            "Yes, master. I was instructed to forego cleaning the mess. Shall I override those instructions?"

            "No," he said. If Andronikos left a mess without letting the droid clean it up, it could be a sign he intended to return. "But if he returns before I do, have him contact me. I may be...occupied for a few more hours."

            "Of course, master."

            Terminating the call, he leaned back in the better quality chair and simply considered. While other men would have already cut and run, it had not occurred to him that Andronikos would leave. It brought a surge of pure, possessive darkness forward. He would not allow it. Andronikos was his. He had already fought an ancient Sith power for him. He had destroyed the one who dared desecrate him. He would have the pirate. One way or another. The emotion was overwhelming--and he drew upon it.

            Shadow began to bleed into the air around his seated form. Proper meditation posture or not, his darkness emerged like fire, flickering and twisting about his person in a violent cloud as it consumed and fed him. It was fortunate that he reigned in his power swiftly. There was a heartbeat where he felt himself balance on the edge of...something. More a feeling than awareness, he poised on the precipice with a feeling if he went over, he would not pull out of what waited across the line.

            Just then, his holocom vibrated against his hip. He was barely aware of moving. It was simply in a hand sparking with restrained hints of Force Lightning. Without hesitation or thought, he answered as he felt himself draw back from that undefined edge. The image of Darth Cuyan took form. Surprise caused his emotions to slip slightly.

            "Inquisitor, now that there are no extra eyes or ears upon us, this is really what I require from you..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a translator rather than the page for Mando'a in this instance. So if the language is wrong--please let me know. I never did dig as deep into that part of Star Wars as I know others have. And I do acknowledge and respect them for it.
> 
> Also, I don't know how to make the translations pop up when you mouse over them. If anyone can help me out I'll come back and edit the chapter to make them easier to read/translate.
> 
>  
> 
> (1) "Targets destroyed. The sith you requested is present."
> 
> (2) "Observe him closely, hunter. But do not let him near Mako."
> 
> (3) "Understood."


	17. Let's Begin

            Shadow Town was unlike any other prison he had ever been in or heard of. Aside from the hassle at the gate to get in, the place was wide open. Residents lived in simple cells not much smaller than a typical slave's quarters. There were no bars on the windows, no code-sealed doors, no closet-like confinement. Not even a single restraint visible or armed guards patrolling the halls. Only the grate-like fences at the entryway. Every cell appeared to have an un-lockable door revealing a bed, table, chair, open refresher unit, and occasionally a window.

            It was eerily open and sparse. Had it not been for the Imperial offices and checkpoint at the gate, one might just have thought it was a slightly cleaner block of any other residential district on Nar Shaddaa. But appearances were merely another power-play. And while it might have been difficult for visitors to enter, it was impossible for residents to leave. The lax security was merely smoke screen. No one, not even Watcher X, could simply walk out or slip away simply because there was no surveillance or bars.

            Narthias leaned in the open doorway to the man's cell. He had made no sound upon his approach and had his presence very carefully withdrawn. It gave him time to study the prisoner that had Darth Cuyan's intense interest. The man was on the lean side. His frame hinted at the potential of strength, if only it had proper nutrition and exercise. Like most long-term prisoners, his head was shaven to minimize any infestation of pests. If the prisoner had the freedom to take care of himself and get some sun, he might have been quite attractive.

            Watcher X was standing near the window granting him a limited view of the Nar Shaddaa district opposite the block the prison claimed. His head was bowed as he worked at a terminal. It was the portable kind meant to be moved. Likely a concession permitted so he could be of use to the bounty hunter and agent. The Imperials could remove it easily at a whim. Plus, from the various bolts, clamps and spikes, the terminal had restricted access. One wrong code or command and it would shut down.

            "You are a strange one," the prisoner said.

            One brow rose behind the sith's mask but he did not allow his surprise to show. He had expected the man to notice him sooner or later. He had not anticipated that the silence would first break upon the captive's part.

            "It is curious. Was it a miscalculation on my part, or an unknown factor on yours? No. Most likely an oversight I shall have to correct."

            For the moment, Narthias simply listened to the even tone. It was far too calm, unwavering. Inhuman. Yet human. More the sort of speech he would expect from a droid lacking any personality matrix. The human quality remained in the calm, collected tone that no machine could produce without an inorganic taint. His quiet introspection finally drew the desired reaction. Watcher X turned away from the terminal to look toward the sith and grant a view of his face.

            Angled eyes. If not for the natural slants and curves in addition to the too-slim frame and lighter skin, Narthias might have been regarding Andronikos. Granted, the pirate had no cybernetic implants, far more muscle, a more powerful and self-aware poise, and an air about him that only a rogue could project. Still, the similarities to the very target of his earlier little emotional outburst stuck foremost in his mind and only fueled that dark ambition. He forced his focus on the information at hand.

            "What oversight might that be?" he asked.

            "Based on the records from various holocams between Shadow Town and the space port, I had believed your armored companion meant more to you."

            Suddenly, Watcher X had his full attention. Not that he allowed his reaction to alter his own relaxed pose.

            "The bounty hunter is an unfortunate acquaintance, actually."

            "Deceptive. Cool. A very convincing and appropriate subterfuge. However, we both know who it is I refer to. You travel with a pirate who conveniently left your ship to attend a personal matter. I had believed, from your body language within his presence, that he meant something worthwhile enough to track down in his absence."

            Anger built within his chest. He held it in check and allowed it to bleed slowly through his perception to draw the Force further into his grasp. If what the prisoner claimed was true, he was going to truly enjoy this particular task. It also raised a small alarm. Should others pick up on his possessiveness, it might either endanger Andronikos or serve to truly drive the pirate away before he could truly taste him. He would have to be more careful.

            "I am Sith. Of course I am possessive of my toys. That hardly means I want them around all the time," he said with a snort.

            "As you like," came the almost infuriating response. "I gather that you are here for a different reason than neutralizing terrorists."

            Finally, Narthias shifted. Pushing away from the doorway with his hip, he straightened and let his arms fall to his sides. Taking one step into the room, he glanced down and back. One hand touched the rusty controls to close the thin door behind him. With additional privacy, he focused on his prey.

            "Someone has come across certain evidence that you possess information they are highly interested in. I am here to see if this is true."

            "I see. It must be someone with considerable power to have a sith inquisitor personally handle the task. Dubious. Not Imperial Intelligence. Evidence of information. Likely someone with access to Intelligence. Curious. Unorthodox approach, possibly effective."

            "Perhaps more effective than you think."

            Watcher X gave a slight nod. "Perhaps. I should inform you that I have been conditioned to withstand torture methods. As you are not recognized as one of my superiors regardless of your standing, I have no compulsion to offer any assistance to you."

            That declaration brought a smile to Narthias's lips. It was wasted beneath the cover of the mask but he still enjoyed it as he brought one hand up. The Force surged and flowed through him in a rush.

            "That is one of the reasons I am going to enjoy this."

            He hesitated only a moment. Long enough to run a calculation of how much time had passed since Kacela and the Cipher had departed, the distance and likely obstacles in the way, and how those obstacles would likely be handled by the pair. Keeping the time counting in the back of his mind, he reached out toward the prisoner and released the crackling surges of energy. Arcs of purple lightning lanced through the air to strike the Watcher full in the chest. From that point, it was a web of dancing and twisting smaller claws tangling about every limb.

            Despite that bony body's immediate reaction to being electrocuted, there was no surge of fear. In fact, even the pain from the rigidly thrashing form was muted, disconnected. That alone was entirely unusual. Faced with a new puzzle, he cut off the attack and lowered his arm. The Watcher's body thumped when it hit the metal floor. Even without the outburst of pain or terror, the physical reaction was clear. Limbs jerked and twitched as they recovered from the overloaded nerves.

            "Hm. Now that's curious," he mused as he approached the prisoner.

            "I...did tell you," came the slightly strained tone. Still far too calm and composed.

            Already, the man was beginning to regain control over his body. It took him a couple of tries before he could get back to his feet. That was plenty of time for Narthias to adjust his strategy while slowly circling into arm's length.

            "While I am certain your conditioning provides you plenty of security, I highly doubt your creators were able to imagine this particular scenario."

            Before Watcher X could formulate a reply, Narthias took a sharp turn and step forward. It brought him up against the pathetic excuse for clothing the prisoner was wearing. Still nothing. Emotions and sensations remained muted in the Force. And the thrill of a new challenge brought its own surge of desire as one hand caught the back of the man's skull. Squeezing the spot where the curved bone met the spine, he turned X's head to take a closer look at the implant over his left eye and in his ear.

            "Any other inquisitor might simply continue that first approach until you were damaged beyond repair," he said almost conversationally. "Regardless of the fact it was futile and would fry your implants, thus destroying the very information they sought."

            Those slanted eyes were locked on his breather mask. The former asset remained silent as his head was turned back and forth for examination. Such a sharp intellect behind those eyes. Dark eyes. Inhumanly empty eyes.

            "Unfortunately, I was not always Sith. So while another _might_ have figured out that your cranial implants could be sliced, they would never have realized that this cortical implant..." He pressed the tips of his ring and little finger against the small hard ring set into the seventh cervical vertebrae. "...is merely a decoy."

            Still nothing from the body standing almost against his own armored form. Yet there was a subtle change in the eyes. He could not pin it down without a better feel for the prisoner, but it was enough for him to continue as his other arm shifted. As quick as a lightning strike, he caught X around his waist with his free hand against the curve of his lower back. This time there was a reaction as the pale hands came up in an aborted grab for his armored arms.

            "While this--"

            Narthias thrust the data spike like a dagger, using the Force to slice through cloth and flesh until it clicked sharply into the subdermal implant hidden just below the prisoner's waist. X gasped as he went rigid, hands grabbing black armor harshly. Those dark eyes went wide in surprise as he twitched in the unmoving embrace.

            "--is the real access point."

            He pressed the switch on the base of the spike before shoving the prisoner away from him. Bringing his left hand up, he unleashed the still-crackling energy in his arms to capture the man's arms in chains of Force Energy. A hiss came as the lightning crackled over the bared flesh of his wrists. X had to hold his arms rigidly at his sides to avoid being electrocuted by the dancing arcs. Narthias's right hand removed the datapad he had clipped to his belt beneath his robes. It was almost disappointing at the lack of verbal denial or platitudes from the man as he worked. A challenge was still a challenge however.

            It still took him some time to slice through all the firewalls, security measures, and decode the base commands. Despite what so many wished to believe, code was code. The source could only vary so far. At last, he came to the final obstacle. Narthias looked up. Keeping his eyes on Watcher X, he entered the final command. The safeguards deactivated and the implants shut down. It was like a dam broke in the Force. His prey jolted sharply with a gasp as his defenses were stripped. Then his entire body shuddered like a leaf in a storm as the motion caused him to lurch against the bonds--which sent a powerful jolt through him.

            The sensation was apparently so intense it was more than painful. It was a wash of emotion through the Force that Narthias latched onto like any bird of prey. Finally, he could get somewhere with the man. Even when he sensed the first trembling, desperate withdrawl as Watcher X attempted to reign in his reactions as he was likely trained to do, it merely added spice to what he was sifting through in the Force.

            "That's better," he said in a tone that rivaled that of X's own. "Now then, let's begin."

            Keeping one eye on the datapad, he continued to work through lines of code. It was more of a puzzle than a problem. One bit of improper code cut there, another sliced from the next segment, both realigned and sent to the next. He worked on the abstract without requiring too much focus. Indeed, if he had focused too hard, he would not be able to do what he had to.

            "We will start out simple. Every time you do not answer a question, or answer it with incorrect information, you will receive a shock."

            His free hand rose and released another smaller jolt of violet from his fingers. When it struck the unarmored torso, it was barely even a fraction of a second before the Force lit up like a flashfire in his awareness. Narthias jerked in surprise, arm recoiling and head snapping up to look to the man twitching in his bonds. Of course that brought his arms against the crackling energy about his wrists which lit up additional flares of pain. It was as if he had outright electrocuted the Watcher instead of delivering a single small zap. Yet, the man made no sound.

            Narthias moved forward slowly as he took this additional development into perspective. Lowering the datapad, he reached out with his free hand to grip the panting man's chin and pull his head up. Those angled eyes opened. Still sharp despite the torment, still intelligent. Now they held emotion. Fear, surprise, and something else. He intensified his grip when X tried to pull his head away. The cruel pressure of his fingertips dug hard into the jawbone and pulled a gasp from the man--along with another spark of that sensation through the Force.

            "You are simply full of interesting little surprises, aren't you? " the sith mused aloud.


End file.
